Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Harry wasn’t in his cupboard anymore when he came to. He was standing on a rocky shore, among a crowd of other people. Everyone was wearing baggy robes of a light green color that completely hid their features. Looking down at himself, Harry realized that he was wearing the same thing.

Where was he?

The last thing he remembered was Uncle Vernon’s purple face as he was slammed into his cupboard. “AND STAY THERE! NO MEALS!” He’d heard something crack, and suddenly felt very tired. 

He’d drifted off, growing cold…

And now he was here. Wherever ‘here’ was.

“Oh, you poor lad,” said a woman’s voice. Harry looked up to see that one of the robed figures had come up to him. “However did you end up here?”

Harry blinked up at her. “I…don’t know. I was being thrown and…I think something cracked…I just woke up here.”

“Your poor parents. They gave you the payment, right?”

“Payment?”

The shade looked around. “For the ferryman. You have it, right?”

Harry gulped. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he knew he didn’t have any money. “I’m sorry…”

“Oh, lad. You’d better start looking around. You might find a discarded coin or two. The ferryman won’t take you without payment.”

“I don’t understand. Where are we going?”

The shade crossed herself, sighing. “Oh, you don’t know yet, do you?” her voice sounded sad. “You’re dead. Both of us are. We’re going to the Underworld.”

As the boat left, no one noticed the shade that had been left behind. Well, calling it a “shade” was an overstatement. It had the general shape of a human shade, but it was miniscule, less than a foot tall. It wasn’t the green of the other shades, either, but a deep black. Not like the night sky, but like the void.

If Thanatos had been there, he would have said that the shade was somehow “incomplete”, though he wouldn't have been able to say why.

Sometimes Persephone was a little late coming back. Her mother was a bit of a clingy person, that much was known. Especially since she now only had her daughter for half the year. So sometimes Persephone took a while to say her goodbyes to everyone on Olympus.

That’s why it took everyone so long to panic. It wasn’t until Hermes showed up that everyone realized something was very, very wrong.

“Lady Demeter wanted to know why word hasn’t been sent yet of Persephone reaching you guys,” the winged god said, standing before Hades’ desk as shades milled around. “And I told her Persephone hadn’t arrived yet. So now she’s convinced you kidnapped her…again.”

The message was a bit of a tradition, where Hermes would wait at the Underworld’s entrance for Persephone to get there, then go back to Olympus to tell Demeter her daughter had made it. At first he had brought her back and forth personally, but eventually Persephone had assured him that she could make her way there on her own. And she had. Until now.

“First of all, that wasn’t me, it was Zeus!” Hades snapped at the messenger. “Second of all, she’s still supposed to be on the surface! Are you telling me she isn’t?”

“Doesn’t seem like it. I know she was doing a quick tour of the surface before coming back. And at some point during that she just…vanished.”

“How does that work?” asked Zagreus, who was pacing beside his father’s desk. “I mean, it’s never happened before, right? Mother’s not one for getting lost, not at all!”

“That’s what everyone else wants to know, coz,” Hermes said. The normally easygoing messenger was fidgeting with his hat. “All we know is that she was somewhere in Northwestern Europe when,” he gestured for emphasis. “Poof. Just dropped off the radar.”

“What’s a ‘radar’?”

“Sorry, mortal expression. It’s something mortals invented to tell them the location of ships and such. It’s supposed to even detect hidden things.” Hermes sighed. “Hecate told me that there’s been some weird stuff going on up that way. Some…’imbalance of magic’. She went to check it out.”

Zagreus bounced back and forth on his feet worriedly. “So we have to wait until Lady Hecate gets back for news? How long will that take?”

Before Hermes could respond, the clanging bell that signaled the arrival of Charon’s boat rang out from the Styx. Hades looked down at the two gods in front of him. “Longer than it will take to process these souls I imagine. You two stay out of the way and speak of this to no one. We don’t need a panic around here.”

Zagreus was tempted to argue with his father. How could he just stand around when his mother was missing? How could his father act like everything was normal?

But he took a deep breath. Hecate was out searching. The Goddess of Sorcery was a friend of his mother. There was no way she would stop until she found answers.

So as much as he hated to do nothing, Zagreus walked to the side of the room to observe the souls coming in. One by one, Hypnos recorded their names, barely managing to stay awake as usual. Some of them poofed off to their part of the afterlife as soon as their names were jotted down. Others, however, resisted being teleported, wanting to put in an appeal with the Lord of the Underworld. Usually it was souls damned to Tartarus who did this, trying to argue their way out of punishment, but others put in an appeal because they wanted to go where their families were. Zagreus could sympathize with the second group.

Then suddenly, Hypnos frowned. “Huh?” He wrote something down. “Wait, what?” He wrote something else down.

“What’s the holdup, Hypnos?” Zagreus asked.

“Um, Lord Hades!” Zagreus started at Hypnos’ tone. He sounded…worried. It took a lot to shake up the God of Sleep. “We’ve got a situation over here!”

“Of course,” grumbled Hades. “Why not add another inconvenience on top of this crisis? What is it?”

“This kid’s name won’t go on this list! It keeps erasing itself!”

Hades looked up sharply. “What?”

“I said-“

“I heard what you said!” Hades stood up from his desk and stomped over to the entrance, sending panicked shades in line for an appeal scattering around the house. Hypnos and the small shade in front of him both shrank back as Hades snatched the parchment from the sleepy god. He stared down at the shade. “What is your name?”

The shade shook like a falling leaf in Persephone’s garden. “H…Harry…sir…Harry Potter.”

Hades nodded and wrote down the name. Then he frowned. “What? What is this?” He scowled down at the shade

The shade fell on his knees. “Please! I…I’m sorry! I don’t know why…I’m not doing anything! I don’t think I am…I don’t mean to, I promise, I-“

Zagreus was at the kid’s side before he even realized he was doing it. “Don’t worry, you can’t have done anything.” He looked up at his father. “Father, quit glaring. You’re scaring him.” Zagreus turned back to Harry. “The only people who can edit that parchment are the gods. And I’m assuming you’re not a god.”

The young shade shook his head rapidly. “N…no. I’m Harry. Just Harry…”

Hypnos wrapped part of his blanket around Harry, who took it gratefully. “Don’t worry, Just Harry! I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.”

Meanwhile, Hades had stomped off with the parchment. “Nyx!” he yelled. “Nyx, where are you?”

“You do not have to shout, Hades,” said the purple robed woman calmly as she stepped out of the lounge. “What is the matter?”

“Hi mom!” Hypnos called, waving. Nyx sighed and waved back reluctantly.

“That’s your mom?” asked Harry. “She’s beautiful.”

Hades thrust the parchment in front of Nyx. “We have a shade whose name will not stay on the page. Those daughters of yours are involved somehow, aren’t they?”

Nyx frowned only slightly, but an aura of power formed around her that made everyone, including Hades, shrink back. “I would remind you to speak of the Fates with more respect, Hades,” she said coldly. “But yes. If a name will not be written down, it means that the owner was not fated to die. Not yet.”

“But he did die, right?” asked Zagreus, his hand on Harry’s shoulder to try and ease his trembling. “I mean, he paid the fare and came here, right? His name just won’t write.”

“He has died, yes. But only temporarily. Eventually, his soul will be pulled back to his body. The two cannot be separated for long while the prophecy is unfulfilled.”

“N…no!” gasped Harry. Everyone turned in shock to the small shade as he grasped the blanket protectively. “Please! Please don’t send me back! I can’t…I can’t, please!”

“Woah, hang on!” Zagreus had seen shades that were content with their death, those who had died of old age or who had died after fulfilling some goal. But this was different. This wasn't a calm acceptance of death. This was a desperate attempt to escape life.

This was wrong. The Underworld was an okay place as long as you weren’t in Tartarus, but nobody was supposed to want to go there. “You really want to die that much?” asked Zagreus.

Harry shrunk into the blanket. “I don’t want to go back…he’ll just…he’ll kill me again. And again. And again. He’ll kill me until I die for real…” Zagreus saw tears coming out of the shade’s eyes. “I just want it to stop. I want to see my parents…they are here…right?”

Nyx looked thoughtful, then she looked up. “Thanatos, child, could you stop by for a moment?”

The sound of a gong rang through the house. Despite the situation, Zagreus grinned. Death approaches , he thought.

“Death approaches,” Thanatos called as he appeared in a greenish fog. “You summoned me, mother?”

“We have a situation. Someone who died before their fated time. We need information on the prophecy that is tying him to life.” She looked over to Harry. “What are your parents’ names, child?”

Harry gulped. “J…james…and…L…lily Potter…”

Thanatos tilted his head. “I’ll be right back.” He floated off to the archives, likely to look for the records.

“That man…” whispered Harry. “He had a scythe. If…if this is the Underworld…was that the Grim Reaper?”

“Yep, that’s him!” said Hypnos cheerfully. “My big brother!”

Harry looked down thoughtfully. “…I thought he’d look scarier.”

Zagreus snorted. “You were picturing a creepy bloodless, weren’t you?”

“A what?”

Hades groaned and went back to his desk. “Boy…Zagreus…take the boy out of the way until we can get this sorted out. We’re behind as it is.”

“Sorry,” whispered Harry.

Zagreus patted him on the shoulder. “It’s not your fault. Come on, let’s go to the lounge, it’s more comfy.”

Harry wasn’t sure what to think of his new situation. Intellectually, he knew dying was supposed to be a bad thing. It had definitely been painful. But the fact that it offered a reprieve from the Dursleys…well, he knew that was probably making him more accepting of it.

“Do you think they’ll find something so I don’t have to go back?” he asked the tall man who the giant behind the desk had called “Zagreus”. Zagreus was intimidating, twice as tall as the adult shades. But he was less scary than the giant (Hades) who sat behind the desk and glared at him for screwing up the system…somehow.

“I…don’t know,” Zagreus admitted, fiddling with the crown of leaves on his head. “The Fates…the ones who decide destinies…they’re notoriously hard to persuade. Even the gods can’t escape their plans.” He grinned down at Harry. “I only know of one instance where they changed their minds, and it took Nyx arguing with them for several solid years. And Nyx is their mom, so if they won’t listen to her…”

Harry slumped, a hollow feeling in his stomach. “So I really will have to go back…”

“I mean, you could try doing what I did and run away,” Zagreus shrugged. “Lead to an improved situation for me.”

“Zagreus, you had better not be corrupting a child,” said a cold female voice from behind the two.

Harry turned around to see a tall woman, about as tall as Nyx. She had purple skin, loads of lipstick, and a single bat wing coming out of her back. She was giving Zagreus an unimpressed look.

“Me? Corrupting?” Zagreus grinned, not looking intimidated at all by her. “Give me a bit of credit, Meg.”

Meg just rolled her eyes. “Word’s spreading around the house about some shade who’s not supposed to be dead but came here anyways.” She fixed Harry with a judgmental look. “I guess that’s you?”

Harry scooted behind Zagreus a bit, feeling a bit like a baby for doing so. He wasn’t sure why he was grabbing Zagreus, other than the fact that Zagreus had been rather nice to him. Plus, there was…an energy about him. Something that made him approachable despite his large stature. “Y…yeah. That’s me…”

“Don’t worry, Harry. Meg won’t hurt you. She’s just supposed to punish people who try to escape. Or who break their oaths. Or kill their families.”

Harry frowned. “Oh…can you go after Uncle Vernon then? Because I think he’s the one who killed me? Or…maybe not since I’m not officially dead. I don’t know. Does the killing have to stick?”

Meg smirked and unhooked what Harry realized was a whip from her belt. “No,” she said. “No it does not. Technically murder is Tisiphone’s domain but…”

Zagreus grinned. “You’d be okay going back if Meg went with you, huh?”

“I mean…I still wouldn’t like it…” Harry admitted. “But having someone with me would make it…better, I guess?”

The sound of a gong rang through the lounge. Zagreus chuckled. “Ah. Death approaches.”

Thanatos appeared in a puff of green smoke, like he had before. This time, he wasn’t alone, with two green-robed shades appearing next to him. They looked around for a bit before their eyes landed on Harry.

“Harry!” one of them called, running (well, floating) towards him and enveloping him in a bone crushing hug (the fact that Harry technically didn’t have bones anymore notwithstanding). “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m so, so sorry. If we’d known what would happen to you after we died…”

Harry was too overwhelmed to speak for a second. Finally, he let out a hesitant “…mum?” and the shade hugged him tighter.

“Who did this to you?” Harry’s mom (Lily, her name was Lily) demanded. “How did you…?”

Harry gulped. “Will you be mad?”

“At you?” asked the other shade, who Harry assumed must be James, approaching and putting a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “No way.”

Harry swallowed, not quite believing them. “W…well. I accidentally let out a snake at the zoo…I think. The glass vanished, somehow. I don’t even know if I did it, but Uncle Vernon blamed me and…I heard something crack and then I’m here.”

The two shades were silent. “Vernon,” said Harry’s mom, dully. “As in Vernon Dursley?” Harry nodded.

“I’m going to kill her. I’m officially going back up there and killing her,” James said coldly.

“Get in line,” snarled Lily. “I’m so sorry, Harry,” she whispered, turning back to her son. “This is my fault.”

“Lils, no…” protested James.

“You see…your father and I have magic. You have it too.”

“That’s how I vanished the glass? I didn’t even mean to…”

“People often can’t control it when they’re younger. Anyways, Penunia…your aunt. She doesn’t have magic. She was always jealous of the fact that I did. And…she must’ve taken it out on you. Or let Vernon let it take it out on you, which is just as bad.”

“It’s not your fault!” Harry protested. “I mean…you died. You couldn’t do anything about it…” Harry felt his stomach twist. His parents had magic? That explained everything! Why… “They never told me. About the magic. They just punished me whenever weird stuff happened.”

“How did this happen?” whispered James. “You were supposed to go to Sirius if anything happened to us. And he never showed up down here, I checked.”

Thanatos coughed. “I…hate to break up the reunion. But there is a matter we have to settle.”

James sighed. “Right, the prophecy. That fucking prophecy…”

“James!” snapped Lily, covering Harry’s ears.

“Oh, and Zagreus? Hecate and Melinoe just returned. They said it's urgent.”

Zagreus’s face turned serious. “Right. On my way.” He ran and with a thwoomping sound, dashed through the wall and out into the hallway.

“He knows there's a door, right?” asked Lily.

The meeting was taking place in the archives room, which was how Zagreus knew it was serious. Normally, meetings took place in the atrium where Father’s desk was. Only the secret meetings that they couldn’t risk anyone overhearing were held in the archives. The shades that were normally on paperwork duty had been cleared out. Standing at the front of the room was Hecate, with her pointy hat and veil. Next to her was Melinoe, who Zagreus immediately tucked under his arm and gave a noogie. “How’s my favorite little sister?”

“Ugh, Zag! Get off!” groaned Mel, wiggling her way out from under her older brother’s arm. “Now’s not the time!”

Zagreus smiled. “Come on, I can’t greet my sister?” Mel scowled at him. “Wow, harsh.”

Nyx, Father, and Hermes eventually all came into the room as well, and Hades closed the doors with a wave of his hand. “Well?” he asked, turning to Hecate. “What have you found?”

“It is as I feared,” Hecate sighed. “It appears the queen was caught up in a region of magical instability. Some loathsome, foul magic user took their gift and perverted the natural order with it. That’s the only explanation for the amount of instability in the region.”

“How do you know the region is unstable?” asked Zagreus, curious. Due to being taught by Achilles, his training had focused more on weapons than magic.

“There are creatures that are created in regions of magical instability, or magical storms. They have many names, but the most common one is ‘Dementors’. They are parodies of shades, sucking the life and magic out of any creature they come across.”

“What does this have to do with Persephone?” asked Hades. “No…don’t tell me these creatures…”

“I doubt it, Lord Hades,” Hecate said, shaking her head. “The queen has too much power for these creatures to drain. However…she is the goddess of the seasons. Queen Persephone’s powers are tied to the natural order.” Hecate spread her hands. “It’s quite possible that, while she traveled through the area, her powers went haywire, or shut down. Either way, she’s stuck.”

“And you can’t just get her out, or you would have done that already,” Zagreus assumed.

“Think of it like the Styx, Zag,” explained Mel. “Mom’s powers are a bunch of droplets, but they all got caught up in the current. Even if we take her out, her powers won’t work right until we stop the current.”

Hermes nodded. “So someone needs to go find out who or what’s causing this and put a stop to it. Cool. Where’s the area?”

Hecate waved her hands, and an image of an island appeared between them. “They’re called the British Isles. However, there is another problem.”

“Of course there is,” grumbled Hades. “What is it?”

“My scrying cannot determine exactly who or what is causing the problem. When this happened before I could get a general idea of the location…however…”

“How can something be blocking your sight?” snapped Hades. “I mean, shouldn’t the only ones powerful enough to do that be-“ He stopped and turned to Nyx.

Nyx had clapped a hand over her mouth. “The Fates are preventing whoever did this from being tracked. They are involved in a prophecy as well.”

Hecate bowed her head. “Yes. This is something we cannot interfere with directly.”

“So, that’s it?” Zagreus asked helplessly. “Mother’s just stuck there until the prophecy is fulfilled? That could take forever!” Then an idea came to him. “Nyx, how many prophecies pertaining to mortals are active at any one time?”

“You mean dedicated prophesies? Not nearly as many as there used to be. Why do you ask, child?”

“I think we need to talk to Harry’s parents about why he isn’t dying.”

“So, you think Harry and the magical storm are connected somehow?” asked Lily. “I suppose that makes sense. What are the odds of two prophecies happening in Britain at the same time?”

“However, young Harry is not at the point where he should be able to pervert magic this way. It must be someone else involved in the prophecy,” explained Hecate.

James growled. “Of course. I’m not surprised that bastard tried something like this. He’s got no sense of morality.”

“Who?” asked Zagreus.

“Voldemort,” said Lily. She stroked Harry’s head. “He’s the one who killed us. And he killed us because of the prophecy.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have the power the Dark Lord knows not. And…” she swallowed. “And either must die at the hand of the other. For neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies.”

There were a few seconds of silence before Lily looked up. “That was the prophecy as it was told to us.”

“That seems pretty general,” said the blonde girl with a skeleton arm that Zagreus had called ‘Mel’. “Harry can’t have been the only child born at the end of the seventh month, right?”

“No,” said James, chuckling mirthlessly. “He wasn’t. We actually knew another kid who fit the criteria, a kid named Neville Longbottom. Born just one day after Harry. But…Voldemort thought it was Harry I guess. And...”

“And he decided to kill you all so Harry couldn’t grow up to defeat him,” Mel crossed her arms. “Classic hubristic move.”

“So it’s my fault,” whispered Harry. “He wanted to kill me and you guys…got in the way.”

“No, Harry, no.” James got down to Harry’s eye level. “Listen to me, okay? Your mother and I love you very much. We did what any parents should. We protected our kid. We blame Voldemort for our deaths. Not you. Never you. Okay? Don’t even think that.”

Harry sniffled, then started sobbing. “Dad…Mum…” Then he gasped and flickered. “What?”

“He’s out of time,” said Nyx. “He’s getting called back to his body.”

“No!” sobbed Harry. “Please, I…I don’t want to go back!”

Lily grasped at her son, then looked up at the Lord of Underworld. “Lord Hades, can’t anything be done? Maybe we could go back with him, straighten Petunia out-“

Hades shook his head. “That hasn’t been allowed since the Orpheus and Sisyphus incidents. It’s too big a risk.” To his credit, he did look sorry about it.

Zagreus smiled wryly. “What a pair we make, huh, Harry? One who wants to stay in the Underworld but can’t die yet, and one who’d love to visit the surface but can’t stay for long without dying…” He trailed off. “Unless…”

Thanatos shook his head. “Zagreus, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but it’s a bad idea.”

“Oh come on, give me credit, Than!” he took a breath. “Look he can’t die, I can’t live. If we linked our souls together somehow, it should even out, right? Then I could go search for Mother, and in the meantime…” he looked down at Harry wryly. “Well, I don’t think your uncle will mess with someone who can use six different weapons with equal ease.”

James looked at the others. “Could it work?”

Hades looked at Nyx, who nodded. “It would be slightly risky, but in theory it could.”

Hades sighed. “This is a horrible idea. And yet…I don’t want her stuck there any more than you do.”

Zagreus grinned. “Great, that settles it, then!”

Harry looked up at Zagreus. “So, I’ll help you look for your mom, and you’ll make sure Uncle Vernon doesn’t kill me again?”

“Basically.”

Harry thought. It was hard to think when you were fading in and out, but he managed it. “Okay,” he reached up and held up a pinky. “Pinky promise?”

Zagreus blinked. “What?”

Lily giggled. “It’s a mortal thing. It’s the most serious promise kids can make.”

Zagreus laughed. “An oath, huh? Alright.” He hooked pinkies with Harry. “You have yourself a deal.”

Harry grinned as he released Zagreus from the hold. “Okay!”

Lily (his mom, he had a mom and she loved him) took him by the shoulders and looked into his eyes. “Harry, sweetie. We love you, okay? We always will. Don’t forget that.” She hugged him.

James (his dad, he had a dad and he loved him) hugged Harry as well. “Give 'em hell for us, kid. And I don’t mean the Asphodel or Elysium parts.” He chuckled. “And I’d better not see you back down here again too soon. Or I’ll kill you.”

Harry laughed as Mel booed at the joke. He held on until he flickered again, then let go and went to stand beside Zagreus in front of Nyx.

Nyx smiled. “Hold hands, you two. This might sting a bit.”

Chapter Text

Harry’s cupboard was just as dark and cramped as usual when he came to. Actually, it felt even more cramped than usual. Maybe that was because Harry’s heart was so heavy. Seeing his parents, making a friend...it had been such a nice dream.

His neck was incredibly sore, though. He must’ve slept on it wrong again. Not like it was hard with the threadbare mattress and pillow he’d oh-so-graciously been given by his aunt and uncle.

As Harry reached to try and rub his neck, his elbow hit something soft. “That’s my stomach,” said a familiar voice in a deadpan tone. 

Harry looked up to see a single glowing red eye looking back at him from the darkness. He shrieked and tried to jump back. But since he was still in the cupboard, all he did was slam his head into the underside of the stairs. He bent over, groaning and holding his head. “Ow...”

“Careful, you don’t want to die again immediately, do you?”

Harry fumbled for the light chain and pulled it down. The light revealed Zagreus, twisted into a very uncomfortable looking position as he tried to fit in the small storage space. Zagreus saw Harry stared and waved. “Hello. Cozy place you have here.”

“I...you...” Harry couldn’t speak for a minute. “That wasn’t a dream!”

“Nope.” Zagreus grinned. “I’m very real. Now, do you happen to know how to get out of here?”

Harry winced, remembering how tall Zagreus was. This couldn’t be comfortable. “Right, hold on, I need to jiggle the lock.” He scooted over to the door, then listened through it. He wasn’t sure what time it was, or what day it was, so he listened for any sound of movement outside.

“What are you doing?”

Harry shushed him. “If Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia hear us, they’ll kill me...again!”

Hearing no noise, Harry jiggled the lock until the door slowly creaked open. The hallway was dark. The Dursleys were probably in bed, then. Harry crawled out, then opened the door wider for Zagreus to follow him.

After coming out, Zagreus stood up to his full height, which had his incredibly spiky hair nearly brushing the ceiling. He stretched and looked around. “Well...this is certainly...um...different.”

Harry suppressed a grin. If the Dursleys knew they had a man who had lived in a palace all his life in their house, they'd probably all collectively have heart attacks.

Well, maybe not Dudley. Harry didn't think he'd care.

“Do you want anything to eat?” Harry asked, leading Zagreus to the kitchen. “I can make bacon, eggs, pancakes, sausages...lots of stuff.”

“I’m fine for now, thanks,” said Zagreus, walking in. 

Harry realized Zagreus was making a sizzling sound with each step he took and looked down. “Um...have your feet always been on fire?”

“It’s a family trait.” Zagreus looked down, frowning. “I suppose I’ll have to invest in some sandals. I guess the floors up here aren’t fireproof.”

Harry looked behind Zagreus to see a trail of blackened and smoking footprints. “...no,” Harry admitted. “No they aren’t.”

“Rats. I was hoping to make a better first impression.” Zagreus sighed. “Then again, considering they literally killed their own flesh and blood I probably shouldn’t care that much...” he muttered, almost to himself.

Harry wanted to shush Zagreus again, but held his tongue. Zagreus had promised to help him, and Harry didn’t want to make him so mad he left for the Underworld again. Speaking of which... ”Um, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“This is going to sound bad, but...who was the giant behind the desk? He never introduced himself.”

“I guess your relatives never told you about the Underworld then?”

Harry shook his head. He couldn’t remember any time his aunt or uncle had talked about religion, aside from the obligatory Christmas and Easter services (which of course he was never allowed to attend). “I think talking about what happens after death counts as ‘freakish’.” Harry put air quotes around the term “freakish”, hoping that Zagreus wouldn’t be offended.

Zagreus snorted. “Well, that’s dumb. It’s important information! If you don’t know the proper burial rites, then Charon might not take you across.”

Harry nodded. “I know, I only got across because I found some loose money in the sand.”

“Okay, then. I’ll fill you in. So, the giant is my father, Hades. He’s the Lord of the Underworld. Basically, he’s in charge of where souls go in the Underworld. Souls can go one of three places:” Zagreus counted off on his fingers. “Tartarus, for the worst people. Murderers, criminals, those who really, really offended the gods. Elysium, for the heroes and those blessed by the gods. And the Fields of Asphodel, for everyone else.” Zagreus grinned. “I heard from Than that your parents went to Elysium, for what it’s worth.” 

“My parents...” Harry’s vision blurred as he looked through the cabinets for something to eat. He had parents who loved him. Who hated that they’d died and left him.

All Aunt Petunia had ever said was that his parents were selfish, drunk criminals who lived off government benefits. But right now, Harry didn’t care. He was quite sure, at this point, that Aunt Petunia had lied. After all, selfish criminals didn’t seem like they would be allowed in Elysium.

But Harry didn’t care if she’d lied or not. He didn’t care if his parents had been bad enough to be in Tartarus. The hugs he got from them...they were full of love and support.

Harry’s parents had loved him. That was the truth. That was all that mattered to him now.

Zagreus regretted bringing Harry’s parents up as soon as he saw the child’s shoulders shake. “Harry? Are you okay, mate?”

“I’m fine,” said Harry, pulling down a bowl and some cereal. “I just...I guess it didn’t feel real until now. Me having parents, I mean.”

Zagreus nodded. “I get it. My birth mother, Persephone, left just after I was born. It didn’t really sink in for me until I met her face to face.”

Harry nearly dropped the bowl. “Wait, what? Why did she leave?”

“Oh, because I was stillborn. You can see why she was...upset. And didn’t want to stick around.”

“Wait, what?”

“Oh don’t worry, Nyx argued with the Fates and brought me back. It took a while though. So by then, mother was gone.”

Harry just stared at him. “... what ?”

It was at this point Zagreus realized (yet again) that his childhood was probably weird by mortal standards. Maybe even by godly standards.

Suddenly, there was the sound of a slamming door, and loud stomping sounds. “Freak!” yelled a deep male voice. “What did I tell you about meals?”

Zagreus looked at Harry, whose face had drained of color. Zagreus moved in front of the boy as the loud stomping grew closer. His hand moved towards his Stygian Blade. He’d run and grabbed the weapon at the last minute when Nyx was making her preparations and Harry was saying his goodbyes. 

At first, Zagreus thought what had stomped into the kitchen was a Wretched Lout who had somehow escaped Tartarus. His face was certainly the color of one, red and angry.

The large man stopped short as he spotted Zagreus. “What...who the devil are you ?”

Zagreus waved at the man. “Hello,” he said, surprised at how casual his tone was. “Vernon Dursley, I presume?”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Who’s asking?” He turned to look over his shoulder. “Pet! Stay in your room, we have an intruder!”

“Wait, hold on,” Zagreus put up his hands. “I’m not an intruder! I was invited in.”

“By who?” Vernon finally looked past Zagreus to see Harry. “You!”

Harry shrank back as Vernon lunged for him, squeezing his eyes shut.

But the hit never came.

Harry opened his eyes to see that Zagreus had caught Vernon’s arm mid-punch, and was looking at his uncle with an unamused expression. “Really?” he said. “Your first response is to punch the child instead of asking him what’s going on? I’ve probably got 5 feet on him. If I wanted to break in it’s not like he could stop me.” Zagreus sighed. “But I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve heard about people like you. People who only go after those who are smaller, or younger, because they know that way they won’t be hurt.”

It was at this point that Harry realized that Zagreus was about three heads taller than Uncle Vernon. Suddenly, his uncle no longer looked so imposing.

Vernon’s face was turning purple from rage now. “Y...you come into my house and insult me?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what’s going on,” said Zagreus, smiling cheekily. “I suppose I’m not being a very good guest, but considering you already violated xenia , I don’t think it matters too much.”

“Xenia?” asked Harry, quietly.

“Sacred hospitality,” explained Zagreus. “Basically, even if you aren’t related by blood there’s still a set of rules they should follow on how to treat you. And I think ‘don’t kill someone and lock their body in a storage cupboard’ is one of those rules.”

Vernon’s face paled. “K...kill? What...I didn’t...”

“Oh, you didn’t know. Harry’s soul ended up in the Underworld. That’s where we met. But for some reason, he couldn’t stay. He was very upset about having to return to live with his murderer, of course. So I followed him.”

Vernon looked down at Zagreus’s feet, which were still red hot. His eyes traveled up Zagreus’ red toga, which had a belt and shoulder piece made of skulls (how had Harry not noticed that before? Maybe he’d been too busy being dead) before landing on his green and red eyes. Vernon gulped. “W...what are you?”

“Well that’s a bit rude, calling me a ‘what’, not a ‘who’, honestly. My name is Zagreus, Prince of the Underworld, charmed, I’m sure.”

Vernon squeaked out something that sounded suspiciously like “demon” before fainting.

Zagreus lowered Vernon to the floor. “...oops,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare him that badly.” He turned to Harry. “Do I really look that terrifying?”

Harry winced. “Uh...well, most people don’t go around wearing skulls all the time?”

“Huh? Why not? It’s not like they’re in short supply.”

Harry just stared at the god.

Zagreus didn’t particularly want to put in the effort to move the large man from the kitchen floor to the couch, so he just put a cushion under his head and left him there, stepping carefully over the puddle of foul smelling liquid coming from the man’s pants. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it wasn’t blood so he figured the man was in no danger.

Harry stuck to his side like a shadow, and after what had just happened, Zagreus couldn’t blame him. He’d meant what he’d said to Vernon: the fact that the man’s first reaction to seeing a child in a room with a seven foot tall man was to attack the child did not speak well to his temper or character. Yes, that man would certainly turn into a Wretched Lout when he eventually died.

Harry gave Zagreus a quick tour of the house, pointing out his aunt and uncle’s room as they climbed the stairs. “Up here is Dudley’s room,” he said, pointing towards a door with loud snoring coming from behind it. “And that’s Dudley’s second room, and that’s the guest room-”

“Wait,” said Zagreus. “Why does your cousin have two rooms?”

Harry shrugged. “One’s for storage.”

“Well then where do you...” A horrible thought crossed Zagreus’ mind. “Please, for the love of all the gods, tell me you aren’t sleeping in a cupboard when they have two perfectly good rooms up here.”

Harry was silent for a second. “Okay, I won’t tell you then.”

Zagreus was silent. Even at his worst, his father had never denied him the basics of food, water, and shelter. Sure as an immortal god he didn’t technically need the first two, but still!

Maybe there was no point in comparing them, anyways. A crappy childhood was a crappy childhood. But even if his father had been...not so great, Zagreus had still had Nyx and Achilles to stand up for him. Who did Harry have?

Him. Harry had him.

Zagreus opened the door to “Dudley’s second room” and wrinkled his nose. The entire room seemed to be coated with toys and other knick knacks, most of them broken. “Wow. Father would never fuss about my room again if he saw the state of this place.”

“Yeah, Dudley gets bored easily,” sighed Harry. “The day that...uh, the day I met you was his birthday, actually. If he hasn’t broken half his presents already, I’ll eat my shirt.” Harry crossed his arms. “I can do it. I’ve done it before. I mean I was sick for a long time afterwards but I can-wait, what are you doing?”

Zagreus walked into the room and started brushing broken toys off the bed. “I don’t know much about hospitality, but I know you’re at least supposed to provide a bed. Really, Dudley should be storing his stuff under the stairs and you should be sleeping here.”

Harry stared at him. “...I don’t understand.”

“You know people usually sleep in beds, right?”

“No, I mean, I get that. But...why are you helping me? I mean, you’re just here to look for your mum, right?”

Zagreus paused. That was true, but... “I’m not going to just stand by and let someone be treated like this. And...I can’t do anything about Mother until that Volder guy shows up again.” Zagreus frowned. “Lady Hecate said that he’d ‘perverted the natural order’...not entirely sure what that means, though.” 

Zagreus picked up one of the toys and fiddled with it as he thought.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE PEW PEW PEW PEW!

Zagreus yelped and dropped the toy as it began flashing. “Gah!” He stomped on it several times until it stopped screaming and hit it with his sword for good measure. “Since when did mortal toys get so loud and scary? I almost had a heart attack!” he gasped.

He heard Harry muffle a laugh behind him and shook his head. “You laugh, but I would never live it down. ‘Heart attack via a toy’. Gods, Hypnos would be talking about that for ages...”

Harry made his way into the room and sat down on the newly cleaned bed. The mattress was bare, and it looked like it had been barely used. Which...yeah, that fit with what Harry had told him.

Dudley’s still just a kid, Zagreus reminded himself. He’s probably only this way because of his parents. No need to attack him.

Zagreus felt a weight press into his arm and looked over to see Harry leaning on him, breathing softly. Gently, trying not to wake the boy, Zagreus stood up and laid Harry gently on the mattress. He found a somewhat soft blanket stuffed in a corner under the bed and laid it over Harry.

“Night, kid. Don’t let the Numbskulls bite.”

Chapter Text

Harry woke naturally, the blanket sliding off him as he sat up and stretched. To be able to actually stretch after waking up was not something he was used to, so he enjoyed being able to do it for once. Swinging his legs out of bed, he crept over to the window to see the sun had risen.

Normally Aunt Petunia would’ve woken him up by now. Odd.

Maybe she didn’t realize that he wasn’t in his cupboard and was knocking fruitlessly at the door. Harry couldn’t help but smile a bit at the mental image before he heard mumbled conversation from downstairs. Harry carefully walked over to the door and cracked it open to listen in.

“-can’t just let it stay here Vernon!” That was Aunt Petunia’s voice.

“I know, Pet, I know. I’ll call the police and-“

“You will do no such thing! What would the neighbors say if they found out the house was broken into? The value-“

“I know the value of the house will drop!” snapped Vernon. “But that’s our only other option, isn’t it?”

“You two do know I’m standing right here,” Zagreus said in a deadpan voice.

Knowing Zagreus was downstairs and feeling his stomach rumble, Harry chanced opening the door and starting down the stairs. “I’ll figure something out when I get back from work,” said Vernon. “I’m late as it is!”

Harry heard the front door slam shut and made his way down the rest of the stairs. Standing in the front hall were Zagreus and Aunt Petunia, the latter of whom was very noticeably not trying to look at the seven-foot-tall man with flaming feet. Zagreus caught Harry’s eye and waved. “Morning, Harry.” He shook his head. “It’s so weird to know what time it is just by looking outside, here.”

Petunia noticed Harry on the stairs and gave him a venomous look. She opened her mouth to say something, but then her eyes flicked over to Zagreus and she closed it again, stomping off towards the dining room. “Someone’s in a mood…” muttered Zagreus.

“She’s probably mad about the carpets,” said Harry. With Vernon out of the house and Zagreus still there, Harry felt braver than normal. Until he remembered there was one more occupant of the house. “Have you seen Dudley anywhere?”

“The blonde boy?” Harry nodded. “Your aunt sent him outside pretty quick after the morning meal. Told him not to make eye contact with me.” Harry breathed a sigh of relief as Zagreus frowned. “I haven’t even got my sword out and she’s still skittish around me. Is it my height? I’m not used to being the tall one…”

Harry couldn’t tell whether Zagreus was joking or if he genuinely didn’t realize how intimidating he looked. “…yeah. It’s definitely the height.”

“Rats. I need to figure out how to change my shape. I know my Lord Uncles and cousins can do it, but I’ve never had the need…”

“Right,” said Harry, feeling incredibly out of his depth. Underworld gods were weird, he reflected as he walked into the kitchen. That’s why Aunt Petunia was so unnerved by Zagreus. Zagreus was a “freak”. He was incredibly tall, wore skulls, and that wasn’t even getting into the fact his dad was in charge of the afterlife.

Harry let himself smile at the realization. Zagreus and him…they could be freaks together.

His smile dropped off his face as he entered the kitchen and saw the look on Aunt Petunia’s face.

Zagreus was examining the strange box in what Harry had called the “living room” when he heard a yelp from the kitchen. He straightened up immediately and looked over to see the aunt right up in Harry’s face, squeezing his upper arm in a death grip.

“…don’t know what you did or how you brought that thing into our house-“ she hissed.

“He…he’s not a thing!” Harry protested meekly. “He’s my friend!”

“Quiet! You tell me how to get rid of it right now or so help me-“

“’So help you’, what?” Zagreus said in a cold voice. His eyes narrowed as the aunt (no, Petunia, she didn’t deserve a familial title) looked up at him with a panicked expression on her face.

Loathing was an unfamiliar feeling to Zagreus. He’d felt it for his father a few times, on the days when he was treated the worst, and the scars from that still remained. But other than him, Zagreus couldn’t think of anyone else. Sure, he knew the shades in Tartarus were criminals and scum and such, but that was on an intellectual level. And Theseus was more an annoyance than anything, especially now that Zagreus had beaten him in combat several times.

Besides, they only attacked him at the behest of his father. It wasn’t personal. This was.

“Well?” asked Zagreus. “Are you going to finish that sentence?”

Petunia slowly released her grip on Harry, who clutched his arm to his chest and backed away quickly. “You…you think you’re so strong, don’t you? You…you just wait until my husband comes home! He’ll take care of you!”

Zagreus snorted. “Your husband fainted in fear at the sight of me last night. Didn’t he tell you?”

Petunia shivered. “Freaks…all of you freaks are the same!” she hissed, walking out of the kitchen quickly.

As she passed Zagreus, he grabbed her by the shoulder and glared at her. “I’d rather be a freak than the one who would manhandle the last reminder of her sister!”

“Don’t you dare speak of her-“

“He is your flesh and blood, whether you like it or not. Start acting like it!”

He let go of Petunia’s shoulder, and she practically sprinted out the back door and slammed it shut. Zagreus sighed. “Blood and darkness, I wish I knew transformation magic…” He turned his attention to Harry, who was cradling his arm. “Are you okay? Is it broken?”

Harry shook his head. “No…just bruised.” He moved his hand slightly to show an angry purple mark on his skin.

Zagreus winced in sympathy and cursed his lack of healing knowledge. “…did you mean what you said?” he finally asked. “About me being your friend?”

Harry’s eyes widened. “I…I’m sorry! You don’t have to be my friend if you don’t want! It’s just…” Harry looked away, looking almost ashamed. “I’ve never really had anyone defend me before. You defended me from your dad…from Uncle Vernon, and now Aunt Petunia…so…”

Zagreus felt his heart ache at the boy’s expectancy of rejection. He knelt down so he was eye level with Harry. “You know, I’ve never been friends with a living mortal before. Everyone I’ve met is either immortal or dead. And my guess is that we’re going to end up spending a lot of time with each other. So, yes, I’d like to be friends if you do.”

Harry looked back at Zagreus, searching his face for any kind of deception. But there wasn’t any. Harry’s eyes welled up with tears and he threw his arms around Zagreus’ neck, hugging him tightly.

Zagreus hugged him back. As he did, he made a vow to himself.

He’d never planned on being merciful to Voldemort, not at all. Voldemort had trapped his mother, and who knew what condition she was in. But holding the crying orphan now, he knew he had to be there to see Voldemort die.

And he’d be there for the judgment as his father cast that man into the depths of Tartarus.

The rest of the day, as well as the next two, was awkward to say the least. Vernon and Petunia avoided Zagreus like the plague, taking care to be on the opposite side of the house from wherever he was. 

So it was too bad for them that Zagreus stuck to Harry’s side like a living shadow, trying to channel his father’s glares whenever they looked at Harry the wrong way.

“Harry Hunting” (blood and darkness, why was it capitalized?) ended quickly for Dudley as well. He’d tried to jump Harry as he was going into the second bedroom (“It’s my room!” he’d squealed. “I need it! You can’t have it!”) before Zagreus had caught him by the collar of the shirt and told Dudley quite firmly that if he had that much energy he should play outside.

Dudley had crossed his arms. “I’m not afraid of you. You’re just a dirty criminal. And my Daddy is going to find a way to kick you out no matter what that freak thinks!”

Zagreus raised an eyebrow. He was 99% sure this kid couldn’t even bruise him. “Is that so? You think you and your father can beat me?”

“Yeah! The good guys always win! Because they’re strong, and Daddy is the strongest person I know!”

Zagreus blinked. “...the good guys?” Gods, he was having Theseus flashbacks. “So does that make me the villain, then?”

Dudley gave him a “well, duh!” sort of look. “You’re wearing red and black and skulls! It’s obvious!”

“Uh huh,” Zagreus summoned a blood crystal and let it scrape along Dudley’s cheek. It was about as severe as a parchment-cut, but it was enough to bleed a bit. “Why don’t you go see your mother about your face?”

Dudley reached up to touch his face as Zagreus set him down. When his fingers came away red, a look of shock crossed his face before tears welled up in his eyes. “M...muuuuuummyyyyyyyy!”

Dudley ran sobbing downstairs, probably into his mother’s arms. Zagreus winced. Was that a little far?

No, he decided. The cut would heal in a day or two, it wasn’t that bad. Besides, Dudley had started it.

So all three Dursleys were currently avoiding Zagreus, and Harry by extension. It was...awkward.

Harry didn’t think he’d ever had such a good set of days. He hadn’t had to do any chores, Harry Hunting had been canceled for the foreseeable future, and he wasn’t even getting yelled at! And on top of all of that, he had both a bedroom and a new friend!

The only problem was that he had to deal with the Dursleys scowling at him every time he went in the kitchen, but that was a small price to pay for everything else, really.

The summer holidays had begun while Harry had been dead (that was still such a weird thought) so he didn’t even have to risk venturing out into the neighborhood to go to school. Which was good because Zagreus was still getting the hang of the shape-changing thing that apparently most of his family could do.

He’d been trying to get a look that was both passed as normal and looked around Harry’s age in preparation for when school started again, but in terms of age he’d only been rewound to a gangly-looking teenager wearing a t-shirt two sizes too big. Also his feet were still on fire.

Zagreus sighed. “Do you think we’ll be able to find a pair of shoes that won’t burn off the minute I put them on?”

Harry shrugged. “I dunno, maybe? I don’t know much about clothes.”

Zagreus flipped through one of Dudley’s old textbooks (that he’d probably never even opened) and sighed. “I really need to figure out how to conjure them myself...”

Since school was out and he didn’t have chores, Harry had been splitting his time between cleaning out Dudley’s stuff from the room and helping Zagreus acclimate to the surface. Even though, by his own admission, the guy was thousands of years old, he hadn’t had any real life experience outside the Underworld.

At least Harry didn’t have to teach him English. When he asked how everyone in the Underworld spoke English even though it wasn’t a part of England, Zagreus had just looked confused. “I always assumed we were speaking Greek. Must be a god thing.”

It was one of the many things Harry had filed under “he’s a god, he can do that, don’t question it”. Luckily, he’d gotten good at not asking questions during his time with the Dursleys.

Zagreus suddenly sat up from his lounging position. “Did a bird just fly past the window?” Zagreus barely knew what birds were, apparently. He’d originally thought they were some kind of mutant bat.

Harry frowned and parted the drapes to look outside. Sure enough, there was an owl sitting on the front porch of Number 4. Clutched in its claws was a tan envelope, which it dropped on top of all the other mail before flying off.

“…I thought mail was delivered by mortals nowadays,” said Zagreus.

“It is,” said Harry, frowning. “And owls aren’t supposed to be out during the day, either.”

The two boys glanced at each other, and Zagreus grinned. “Shall we go see what that was about?”

Harry nodded, returning the grin. He wondered if the Dursleys had seen the owl and were having a fit.

Harry ran down the stairs while Zagreus slid down the banister. Harry wanted to join him, but part of him was still scared of punishment. The last time he had tried to slide down the banister to get downstairs faster…

Harry shivered and pushed away the memory as he opened the door. Sitting on the porch was a pile of mail. On top of the pile was the tan envelope that the owl had dropped. Harry picked it up and his eyes widened at what was written on the front.

Mr. H Potter

The Smallest Bedroom

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

He had mail? How the hell did he have mail? Zagreus looked over Harry’s shoulder. “Who’s it from?”

“I don’t know,” Harry admitted. “There’s no return address.” He turned the envelope over and checked the back. The letter wasn’t sealed with glue, but with an old fashioned purple seal, which had a shield with animals in the four corners and a large “H” in the center.

“Dudley, get the mail!” he heard Vernon call. Harry quickly stuffed the envelope under his shirt and went back inside with Zagreus, closing the door. It wasn’t a moment too soon, as Dudley came stomping into the front hallway. He had a very sour look on his face, probably because he couldn’t make Harry get the mail with Zagreus right there. Speaking of which, Dudley turned an interesting shade of white as he saw the two standing by the door. Zagreus gave a sarcastic wave.

Harry rolled his eyes as he turned away to go up the stairs. He’d seen the small cut that Zagreus had given to Dudley. Of course, Harry could be beaten black and blue and no one cared. But the moment ickle Duddikins got the tiniest scratch, everyone lost their minds. Well, whatever. If it kept him away from Harry, it was fine.

As soon as the door to Harry’s bedroom was closed, he got the envelope out again, studying the seal. The animals on the shield looked to be a lion, a snake, a badger, and some kind of bird. What did the “H” stand for anyways? It couldn’t stand for Harry…

“Are you going to open the letter or just stare at it forever?” asked Zagreus with a cheeky grin.

Harry stuck out his tongue. “Give me a second! This is the first piece of mail I’ve ever gotten, okay? I’m nervous…”

“About what?”

“I don’t know,” Harry admitted. Taking a deep breath, he broke the seal on the envelope and pulled out two folded pieces of paper. At the top of the first one read “Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc. Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)”

“I have no idea what half of those titles mean,” admitted Harry. He cleared his throat and read aloud.

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

The two boys were silent for a minute. “What did any of that mean?” asked Zagreus. “And what kind of name is ‘Hog Warts’?”

Harry racked his brain. “Mum said that the reason Aunt Petunia hates me is because I have magic, right?” He hadn’t actually tried doing any magic since coming back, but he did remember her saying that. “Maybe this is a school for magic people. It says ‘Witchcraft and Wizardry’ after all.”

Zagreus nodded. “That’s true. I was under the impression that you had to do parchmentwork to get into a school though. Unless your parents did that before they died, which…actually, yes, that makes the most sense.”

Harry nodded, but frowned as he checked the supplies list. “Robes…cauldron…a wand…I have no idea where to find all this. And what do they mean by ‘await my owl’?”

Zagreus shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe they’ll send another one by tomorrow and you send a note with that one?”

Harry nodded. That made sense to him. He dug around for a notebook, tearing a page out. “You think they’ll mind if it’s on notebook paper?”

“If not, they’ll probably just tell you to redo it. Probably.”

Harry winced at the lack of reassurance but dug out a pen and scratched out a letter.

Dear Deputy Headmistress McGonagall,

Thank you so much for telling me about my acceptance. I’d love to be able to come, however, I’m not entirely sure where to get the supplies on the list you sent. Also, I assume my parents enrolled me before they died. Did they leave any money for my tuition? My relatives aren’t fond of magic, so I don’t think they’ll pay for anything.

Thanks,

Harry Potter

Chapter Text

The next day, another “owl” flew by the house and dropped another letter onto the porch (“probably wanted to make sure you got one”, Zagreus guessed). As it started to fly away, Harry opened the bedroom window and whistled for the owl. It turned around immediately and flew down to sit primely on the windowsill. Zagreus studied it as Harry walked over. It had a stunning brown and white pattern on its feathers like someone had flicked white paint on it. The owl fixed him with its dark eyes. “You’re a beautiful bird,” Zagreus complimented. “I never knew you guys were so colorful. I’ve lived underground my whole life, you see. Haven’t had the chance to meet many of you.”

The owl seemed to preen itself at the compliment as Harry held his note out for it to take. “Hi. I…um. I hope this is okay. If not, they’ll let me know, right?”

The owl just stared at him, then leaned forward and clamped its beak around the paper. It gave a muffled hoot, then took off into the sky. Zagreus leaned back as Harry closed the window. “And now we wait.”

Harry turned to Zagreus, looking nervous. “What are you going to do? I’m sorry, I should have asked. I mean, you didn’t get a letter…”

Zagreus waved his hand, smiling. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered.” He pulled Mort out of his tunic. “Isn’t that right, Mort? You can help me stay in touch with the Underworld, right?”

He saw Harry staring at him. “Than gave me Mort a long time ago. I can use him to call if I need help. I did that last night to talk to him about what to do.”

He smirked. Than hadn’t been happy at first that Zagreus hadn’t called him for a fight, assuming he was goofing around (which was a fair assumption, but still). After Zagreus had explained the situation, however, Than had understood the problem and popped back down to talk to Hermes and Hecate. “Lady Hecate and Lord Hermes promised to help. I assume they’re going to forge some sort of magical paperwork to make me a student retroactively.”

Harry relaxed. “Oh, good. I didn’t really think about…”

Zagreus shrugged. “Hey, you’ve got the chance to escape from a miserable life and you’re taking it. I get it, really.”

“Well, it hasn’t been so bad, lately…”

Zagreus wasn’t sure whether to feel good that Harry was happy to have him here or upset that it had taken literal divine intervention to improve the kid’s life even marginally. “In any case, what better place to find out about magical instability than a magic school. I’d probably have tried to swing by there anyway. So it works out!”

It was then that the two heard a shriek from downstairs. Harry went and cracked open the door, peering out. “What is it?” asked Zagreus quietly.

“-found us!” Petunia was whispering. “What do we do?”

“Nothing!” snapped Vernon. “We destroy it, and don’t tell anyone.”

“Will that work? What happens if they don’t get a response?”

There was the sound of tearing paper. “If they try anything else funny, they’ll have another thing coming. I’ve finally come up with a way to get that damned demon out of here, too! I’ll kill two birds with one stone!”

Harry slowly closed the door. “Good thing I already got my letter,” Harry whispered. “Uncle Vernon would never have let me read it if he knew.” He looked at Zagreus, wide eyed. “You don’t think he can actually get rid of you?”

Zagreus snorted. “I’ve literally fought the Furies and won. He’s welcome to try.” At Harry’s confused look, he clarified. “You met one of them, remember? Meg.”

“Ooooh,” Harry nodded in understanding. “Yeah, she seemed tough. And she had a whip.”

Zagreus grinned at the memories. “That she does…anyways, there’s nothing to worry about. If he really ends up being tough, Than can take him out easily.”

“Cause he’s Death.”

“Cause he’s Death,” Zagreus confirmed.

Harry nodded, satisfied. “I wonder what a magic school is like,” he wondered. “I mean, do they still teach things like Maths and English? What happens if we end up in different classes? I mean, our souls are tied together, right? Is there a distance limit?”

Zagreus frowned. “That’s actually a good question. Nyx didn’t mention one, but I assume there must be. This sort of thing doesn’t come without drawbacks.” Zagreus thought about it a bit and grinned. “Why don’t we go test it outside? I could use some fresh air.”

Harry looked nervous. “Dudley’s got a gang. They’re probably roaming around out there.”

“I’ve got a sword,” Zagreus pointed out, summoning it.

“…good point. Let’s go.”

The two spent the rest of the day at the park, testing how far they could go from each other. Zagreus had finally figured out how to look like a normal preteen, though he still had to conjure shoes to hide the flaming feet. “They feel weird,” he complained. “I don’t know how you stand it; my feet can’t breathe at all.”

Harry had just shrugged. “You get used to it, I guess. And it’s better than getting frostbite in the winter. Not that you’d have to worry about that.”

“Nope!” said Zagreus cheerfully, taking deep breaths of what Harry assumed was his first fresh air in centuries.

Harry constantly kept an eye out for Piers and the other members of Dudley’s gang, getting more anxious the further Zag got from him. It was probably due to the nature of the soul bond to not want to be far away from the other person. That’s what Harry kept telling himself, anyway. Not that he didn’t like Zag, but he was here to find his mum, not babysit Harry.

In the end, they realized they’d forgotten to bring anything to measure with and went to the soccer field instead, since Harry knew about how long one was. They found out that with Harry standing at one end, Zagreus could get about as far as the other goal before getting woozy and tired. They both decided not to push it any further, just in case. “I’d rather not die again just yet,” Zagreus had quipped.

Harry was still caught off guard by the ease with which Zagreus talked about death and dying. But then again, he lived in the land of the dead. He was probably used to it.

The two returned home just as the sun was setting. At the edge of the lawn, Zagreus stopped, frowning. “What is it?” asked Harry.

“I’m not sure. I’m sensing…something on the property line though. Something magical, I think?” He shook his head. “I felt it on the way out, too, but I thought it was just a reaction to the sunlight or something.” He put up a hand and pushed against something invisible. “It almost feels like some kind of wall. Not a very strong one, but it’s still there.”

Harry shivered, disquieted, though he wasn’t sure why. “I never noticed. Do you think it’s got something to do with my…” he looked around to check for Dursleys. “My magic?” he finished with a whisper.

“Probably? But that doesn’t explain why I can sense it. I’ve never had much magical talent myself, that was always Mel’s area.” Zagreus stepped over the property line. “Maybe we can find out more when we get to Hogwarts.”

Relieved that whatever this was wouldn’t keep Zagreus out, Harry walked inside. He could hear the television from the living room, which seemed to be playing some kind of violent movie, judging from the gunshots. Zagreus frowned and peeked in as the two made their way to the stairs. “I see humans finally invented a version of the Adamant Rail,” he said conversationally.

“You mean guns?” asked Harry.

“I mean the weapons that shoot very small projectiles that go very fast and can explode things.”

“Yup, those are guns.”

“…I like the name ‘Adamant Rail’ better,” muttered Zagreus.

Zagreus was looking through a history textbook when the man came. He’d just gotten up to the First World War (wrinkling his nose as he read, because poison gas did not sound fun) when a loud boom came from the direction of the front door.

He heard Harry startle awake and looked out the window to see what was going on. Standing on the front porch of the house was a man who looked like he could be Zagreus’ height. No, even taller. More like Asterius’ height. Judging from his wide frame, he could probably do as much damage as the Bull of Minos if he wanted to.

“What’s going on?” asked Harry, who’d shoved on his glasses and joined Zagreus at the window.

Zagreus frowned. “I don’t know.” He rubbed his fingers over the sigil of the dead pinned on his tunic-turned-shirt. “But I’m going to find out. Darkness!”

He ran downstairs after activating the power as Harry yelled. “Wait, you could turn invisible this whole time?”

Zagreus stopped short at the bottom of the stairs, barely avoiding running into Vernon Dursley, who ran into the front hall carrying a long thin tube of metal. “Who’s there?” he yelled, looking frazzled. “I’m armed, demon!” Behind him, Petunia, still in curlers, quietly crept up with a frying pan clutched in her hands.

Zagreus stared at the weapon in Vernon’s hands. It almost looked like a less fancy version of…

“Blood and darkness!” he swore. If there was one mortal he did not trust to have an Adamant Rail, it was Vernon Dursley. He needed to get rid of that as soon as possible. Looking back up the stairs, he saw Harry and Dudley peeking out of their rooms. Zagreus gestured for Harry to go back inside before remembering Harry couldn’t see him at the moment.

The booming sound came again. Then again. Then…

CRASH!

The door tipped over, falling out of its frame, revealing the giant of a mortal standing behind it. The man stepped inside. “…sorry about that,” he said in a country accent. “Get a bit overenthusiastic sometimes.” He leaned over to pick up the door, then fit it back in the frame.

Vernon cocked his Adamant Rail. “I…I order you to leave at once! You are breaking and entering!”

The man snorted. “Shut up, Dursley, you great prune.”  He took hold of the end of the Adamant...okay, fine, the “gun” and bent it upwards 90 degrees. Vernon squeaked and pulled the trigger. With a bang, plaster rained down from the new bullet holes in the ceiling. 

Zagreus decided that he liked this strange man.

“Now,” said the giant. “Where’s Harry? Don’t tell me you have him shoved in a closet somewhere.”

No, they had him shoved in a cupboard, Zagreus thought as he heard hesitant steps down the stairs behind him. “Um…hello…” said Harry nervously.

The giant grinned. “Ah, there you are! Last time I saw you, you were only a baby! You look just like your dad, but you’ve got your mum’s eyes.” The man rifled through his coat, which Zagreus now realized was covered almost entirely in pockets. “I’ve got a bit of an early birthday present…I know it’s a little over a week away but y’know…” He pulled out a white box and Zagreus moved to the side so he could pass it to Harry. Zagreus watched as Harry opened the box to find what looked like a cake. On it were written the words “Happy Birthday Harry” in green.

The giant meant well by Harry, it seemed. “Thank you…” whispered Harry, looking a bit overwhelmed. “But…who are you?”

“Ah, right. Haven’t introduced myself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys and Grounds of Hogwarts.” The giant winked. “You’ll be knowing all about Hogwarts of course…”

“Er…not much. Only what I read in the letter, sorry.”

“Letter?” squeaked out Vernon. “You never got a letter! We made sure of it!”

“Za…er…” Harry’s eyes flicked to the giant. “I got the first one that came. Before you started tearing them up.”

“They did what?” yelped Hagrid, rounding on the Dursleys. “You can’t do that!”

“He’s not going!” Vernon snapped.

“Oh, and I suppose a great Muggle like you is going to stop him?”

“Muggle?” asked Harry.

“Non magic folk,” Hagrid explained.

Muggle, muggle, muggle . Zagreus said it over and over in his head as he tried to resist giggling. It was really a funny word.

“We swore when we took him in we’d put a stop to that rubbish! We swore we’d stamp it out of him!”

“So you did know!” Harry yelled. “You knew I had magic! You knew I was a wizard!”

“Knew?” shrieked Petunia. “Of course we knew! How could you not be, my… perfect sister being what she was.” She spat the words out. “Oh, every year after she received that letter she’d go trotting off happily to her oh-so-special school. And every summer she’d come home with frog spawn in her pockets and turning…teacups into rats! Oh my parents, they were so proud! They were so! Proud! To have a witch in the family!” She took a deep breath. “I was the only one who saw her for what she really was: a freak! And then she married that Potter oaf and then went and got herself blown up and we. Got landed. With you!”

“Blown up? You told me they died in a car crash!”

“A car crash!” gasped the giant. Zagreus wasn’t sure what a car crash was, but the giant seemed offended by the lie. “A car crash, kill Lily and James Potter? It’s an outrage! A scandal! Harry Potter not knowing his own story when every child in our world knows his name!” 

“Knows my name? Why?” asked Harry. “What happened?”

Zagreus opened his mouth to ask why Harry was asking when his parents had already told him, before realizing he wasn’t supposed to be there and shut his mouth.

Hagrid, for his part, looked like the fight had gone out of him. “Oh, Harry…I had no idea. Dumbledore told me there might be trouble getting a hold of you but…I’m not the best person to explain. But I can’t send you off to Hogwarts not knowing…”

“About what?” Harry prompted.

Hagrid sighed. “Let’s get one thing out of the way: not all wizards are good. They can go bad. Real bad. A few years ago, there was one wizard who went as bad as you can go.” Hagrid pulled out what looked like a pink umbrella and turned it over in his hands nervously. “Those were dark days, very dark. That wizard, he gathered followers, consolidated power. And anyone who tried to fight him…they died. Simple as that.”

“What was his name? The wizard?”

Hagrid looked conflicted. “I…no one likes to say it…”

“Maybe if you wrote it down?”

“Nah, I can’t spell it.” He took a deep breath. “Voldemort. That was his name. Now don’t make me say it again. Most people still call him You-Know-Who.”

“So…what happened?”

“Well…your parents, they were real brave. Fought against him, fiercely. Just after you were born, Dumbledore told them to go into hiding, that they’d been put near the top of You-Know-Who’s list, so to speak. But despite that…You-Know-Who went to their house and…and…” Hagrid’s eyes welled up with tears, and he pulled out a huge handkerchief, blowing his nose loudly. “Sorry…I hate this part…You-Know-Who killed them. Both of them. And then…well, he tried to kill you too. Wanted to make a clean job of it, I suppose.”

That’s not why. Zagreus remembered. Harry was always the main target. Does Hagrid not know about the prophecy?

“But he couldn’t do it. You ever wondered about that mark on your forehead?” Harry pulled up his bangs and rubbed the lightning scar on his forehead. Zagreus hadn’t really noticed it before. Denizens of the Underworld came with all sorts of marks on them. “That’s not a regular cut. That’s something you get when a powerful, evil curse touches you. But…it only touched you. Didn’t kill you. And then he was gone. Nobody lived once he decided to kill them. No one except for you.” Hagrid sighed. “That’s why you’re famous. You’re the Boy who Lived.”

Harry looked pensive. Zagreus couldn’t blame the kid, considering everything they’d been told. He gave Harry’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze and was gratified by the small smile he got in return. “So what happened to him? To V-I mean, You-Know-Who?”

Hagrid shook his head. “That’s a big mystery, that is. Some say he died that night.” Hagrid snorted. “Codswallop, in my opinion. Don’t think he had enough human left in him to die. Nah, if you ask me, he’s still out there. Just…tired. Too tired to carry on.”

Not enough human left in him to die… Zagreus shivered. Had Voldemort somehow prevented himself from dying? That would explain quite a bit.

It also meant that when they caught up with him, all hell was going to rain down…probably literally.

He had to tell Than as soon as possible.

Chapter Text

Zagreus whistled as he observed the contents of Harry’s vault. Sure he’d seen lots of money before. After all, his father was master of everything beneath the earth, including all the precious metals and gems therein. He’d just never seen so much of it crammed into one place. It was almost enough to rival Charon’s hoard near his shop (not that Zagreus would ever tell the boatman that. He wasn’t that dumb).

Hagrid had led them down Privet Drive, onto a bus, and down underground to what Harry had told Zagreus was “the Tube”. They had gone into a shabby looking pub called the Leaky Cauldron, and Harry had immediately been accosted as soon as Hagrid had mentioned his name.

Zagreus had to dodge around the excited witches and wizards as they surged forward to shake Harry’s hand and tell him what an honor it was to meet him. Harry had looked pale and overwhelmed by it all, and Zagreus couldn’t blame him. He’d been tempted to drop the invisibility and yell at the crowd to back off and let the kid breathe.

Eventually, though, Hagrid had herded Harry outside and taken him to the Wizarding Bank, Gringotts. Apparently it was run by goblins, short, green skinned beings with big, batlike ears. After Hagrid had shown them Harry’s vault key, a goblin had taken the group on a dizzying minecart ride so far into the earth that Zagreus wondered if they were going to break into Elyiusm at some point.

Which led to now, with Harry staring starry-eyed at the contents of his vault. He walked inside, unsteady on his feet, and Hagrid helped Harry gather some money into a bag. “The gold ones are Galleons, the silver ones are Sickles, and the little bronze ones are Knuts. There’s 29 knuts to a Sickle and 17 Sickles to a Galleon.”

Zagreus groaned. He didn’t like math at the best of times, and this sounded way more complicated than it needed to be.

“That conversion rate is ridiculous!” He grumbled as they went on another wild minecart ride. Apparently Hagrid had to pick something up for Dumbledore the Headmaster. Both Zagreus and Harry had leaned forward when the goblin had opened the door with a swipe of his claw, trying to see what Hagrid was picking up.

However, whatever it was was completely concealed inside a plain brown bag. That said, the bag couldn’t conceal the energy Zag felt from it. It was the energy of his mother, the opposite energy of Thanatos.

It was Life. That bag somehow contained pure Life. How that worked Zagreus didn’t know, and he wasn’t sure why Dumbledore wanted it. It made him nervous, not knowing that.

One more wild cart ride later, and the group stepped back out into the sunlight. As they did, Zagreus spotted someone familiar in the shade next to the bank building. “Be right back,” he whispered to Harry, before going over to the figure and dropping the invisibility. “Lord Hermes?”

The god of messengers had hidden his wings on his head and feet, but he was still easily recognizable by his bag, hat, and cheeky smile. “There you are, coz! Thought you were never gonna turn up!”

“Sorry, I’ve been invisible this whole time. Wait, are you okay to be here? With the magical storm and all...”

“Don’t worry about me, coz! I slip across borders all the time!” Hermes grinned. “Now, a little witch told me that your paperwork is done, and I delivered it. So all we have to do now is grab your school supplies!” Hermes assumed a thinking posture. “Huh. If only there was someone from the school here to guide us around. After all, we are from a foreign country and could get lost very easily...”

Zagreus grinned back, seeing where Hermes was going. “You know, I think I might have spotted someone who could help.”

Harry was getting worried after he felt Zagreus’ presence fade behind him. Zagreus still wasn’t back when he got out of “Madame Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions”. The encounter with the pointy blonde boy hadn’t improved his mood. He’d been reminded how much he still didn’t know about the Wizarding World. Quidditch? Houses? He’d had no idea what those were.

“Excuse me?” called a voice as he reunited with Hagrid. Harry turned to see a black haired man in orange robes jogging towards him. Behind him, trying to keep up, was a young boy wearing a red hoodie with a skull on it. His black hair was slightly spiked up, save for his bangs which were swept over his right eye. Harry made eye contact with the boy, who winked at him. Harry relaxed as he recognized Zagreus. But who was the other man? 

“Are you from Hogwarts?” the blonde man asked. “I saw you guiding a kid around so I assumed...”

“That’s right,” said Hagird. “Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys and Grounds of Hogwarts. Can I help with something?”

The man put his hand on Zagreus’ shoulders. “I’m Presto Psychopompos, and this is my coz, Zagreus. He’s attending Hogwarts this year and, well neither of us are from the area so I was hoping we could follow you around and see where stuff is?” He said all of this very quickly.

Hagrid blinked, looking like he was trying to keep up with the man’s chatter. “Er...sure, I guess?” He looked down at Harry, who nodded. “Harry here is going for his first year as well. I’m sure he’d like to get to know one of his classmates!”

Harry nodded and extended a hand. “How do you do? I’m Harry Potter.”

Zagreus grinned and shook Harry’s hand. “Zagreus Toukhthon. My friends call me Zag.”

As the group set off down the alleyway, Harry turned to Zagreus and mouthed “Toukhthon?”. Zagreus just shrugged. “Lord Hermes’ idea,” he mouthed back.

Hermes? He was the messenger god, right? Well, that explained the speed at which he was talking. He was chattering away to Hagrid, and the giant man was looking overwhelmed at all the questions. “You can’t expect me to believe this is the only place in all of England that sells school supplies. Has the magical population dropped that low? Is this because of the war I heard about? Why won’t anyone say the name of the guy who led the terrorists? Is his full name really that hard to say?”

Poor Hagrid. Harry had to resist laughing at the giant’s bewildered expression. The group went through several shops together, going down the list of supplies.

“What’s Quidditch?” asked Zagreus as they passed a store with brooms in it labeled “Quality Quidditch Supplies”.

“Oh, that’s our sport! Is it not popular down in Greece?”

“Not in his area,” said Hermes. “Zag here was raised in one of those hidden isolated magic cities that doesn’t have much contact with the outside. It’s nicknamed “the House of Hades” cause it’s so far underground. Also it’s haunted. Super duper haunted.”

“...right,” said Hagrid slowly. “Anyways it’s played on brooms...never really played it much myself, but there are house teams and it’s a big deal.”

“Hagrid?” Harry finally asked. “What are Slytherin and Hufflepuff? There was a boy in Madame Malkins that mentioned them. And Quidditch, too.”

“Oh, right! I should explain that!” Hargid counted off on his fingers. “There’s four houses named after the four founders of Hogwarts: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Syltherin. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a load of duffers but...”

“Guess I know which house I’m going to,” sighed Harry.

Hagrid shrugged. “Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin.”

“Why? What’s wrong with Slytherin?” asked Zagreus.

“Most of the witches and wizards who went bad in the last war were in Slytherin. Including You-Know-Who.”

“You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?” gasped Harry.

“Years and years ago...” sighed Hagrid.

The group went into Flourish and Blotts, where Harry stared at a book called “Curses and Countercurses: Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies” for a solid two minutes before Hagrid dragged him away.

“I was trying to find something to use on Dudley,” Harry admitted. 

“Not saying that isn’t a good idea, but you’re not supposed to use magic in the muggle world except for very special circumstances,” Hagrid told him. “Plus, you don’t start covering stuff like that for a few more years. Couldn’t work any of those spells yet.”

Looking back, Harry saw Zagreus grab the book and give him a thumbs up. Harry grinned and returned the gesture.

They went through several more shops, picking up ingredients, scales, pewter cauldrons (“Who needs a solid gold cauldron, anyway?” “I think it’s for really advanced potions.”), collapsable telescopes, parchments, quills, and other assorted items that they needed. 

“Right, what’s left?” asked Hermes, looking over the list.

“Just wands...and I need to pick Harry up an early birthday present,” Hagrid grinned. “I probably won’t be seeing him before school starts.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I know. Tell you what, I’ll get your animal. An owl, they’re dead useful, carry your mail and everything...”

The group browsed through Eeylops Owl Emporium, and out of the corner of his eye Harry could see Zagreus looking around in awe of the different colored birds. “You going to buy anything, Zagreus?” he heard Hagrid ask.

Zagreus chuckled. “No, you heard what L...what Presto said about where I live. Plus, I don’t think an owl, cat, or toad would get along with Cerberus.”

“...you have a three headed dog? A real one?”

“Yeah, he used to be our guard dog. Still serves as one sometimes, but he’s slowed down a bit. He’s a real sweetheart, or at least he is if you’re family.”

“I’ve read so much about them! I heard they’re super loyal, but really hard to train...”

Harry tuned out the two creature enthusiasts geeking out as he made eye contact with one of the owls. She was a beautiful pure white, with piercing gold eyes. She learned forward and rested her beak on the bars and let out a soft hoot.

Harry was in love immediately.

The group left Ollivander’s in a pensive mood. “I don’t like how close he got to Harry,” muttered Zagreus. “Who just touches someone’s scar like that?”

“Ollivander’s always been an odd chap,” Hagrid admitted. “But he’s very good at what he does.”

Zagreus looked over at Harry, who was giving his wand a pensive look. “You alright there, mate?”

“I just...” Harry looked up at Hagrid. “Everyone’s saying I’m famous. But I can’t even remember what I’m famous for! Everyone seems to think I defeated V...You-Know-Who when I was one, but how can I have done that?”

“I’ve heard of one year olds doing crazier things,” said Hermes. “Why, I once heard a story of a one day old baby who could walk and talk and stole his half-brother’s cattle! Granted the kid was a son of Zeus but still!”

“Yeah, but...I’m not. You heard Ollivander. People expect great things of me, but...I’m not great at all.”

Hagrid smiled down at Harry and patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts. You’ll learn fast enough, long as you do your best. I know it’s hard, being singled out, but you’ll have a great time! I know I did...still do!”

“For what it’s worth, I barely know anything about magic,” Zagreus put in. “So even if you’re entirely hopeless, you won’t be alone!”

Harry groaned. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he muttered.

“You’re welcome-oh, that was sarcasm,” Zagreus realized.

“Yeah.”

The last month at the Dursleys was about the same as the previous days before the letter. Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley avoided Harry and Zagreus like the plague. Had it just been Harry by himself, he was sure he would’ve been depressed by it. But he wasn’t by himself, so it was fine.

Zagreus and Harry spent their time in Harry’s room, reading the textbooks while Harry’s new owl (who he’d decided to call “Hedwig”) went in and out at her leisure, bringing back dead rats occasionally.

Zagreus currently had his nose stuck in “Hogwarts, A History”, reading about the Houses. “So, Gryffindor is for the brave, Ravenclaw for the clever, Hufflepuff for the hardworking, and Slytherin for the cunning.”

Harry frowned. “I don’t feel like any of those things...does it say how it’s decided which house you go in?”

“Nope. It says they won’t say because it’s a tradition to keep it a surprise for first-years.”

“Oh good, that helps my anxiety,” Harry sighed. “I wish I knew which houses my parents were in. Maybe that would help me at least aim for something. I do know I definitely don’t want Slytherin though.”

“Because Voldemort was in that house?”

“Right,” Harry smiled wryly. “No offense, but I already share a wand core with him, apparently. I don’t want to be tied any more in any way to the guy who killed my parents.”

“Fair enough.”

There was a beeping sound from the nightstand clock, which Harry had repaired. “It’s midnight,” Zagreus noticed.

Harry grinned and jumped off the bed where he’d been sitting. “Yes! Finally!”

“Why, what is it?”

“Oh, right. It’s officially my birthday now!”

Harry ran downstairs, trying to make as little noise as possible out of habit. Opening the cabinets, Harry grinned as he took out a piece of bread, then rummaged through the drawers for some candles and matches.

“What are you doing?” asked Zagreus, entering the kitchen as Harry stuck the candle in the piece of bread and lit it.

“...have you never blown out birthday candles before?” Harry asked. Sure, he hadn’t either, but he at least knew what birthday candles were.

“No one really celebrates birth anniversaries in the underworld,” Zagreus admitted. “I mean, it’s hard to keep track of time down there. Plus, we’re immortal so...” Zagreus shrugged.

Harry looked down at the lit candle in the bread. “Here,” he said, pushing it towards Zagreus. “Everyone should get to blow out birthday candles at least once. Just don’t forget to make a wish before you blow it out.”

“What about you?” asked Zagreus. “Don’t you want a wish?”

Harry smiled. “We’ve got more candles, it’s fine.”

Zagreus thought for a minute, then blew out the candle. “I don’t say it out loud, right?” he asked.

“Nope,” Harry confirmed, pulling the piece of bread back and sticking another candle in to light it. Harry closed his eyes. I wish...that I’ll make my parents proud. That I’ll make things right...whatever “right” means.

Harry blew out the candle. “Happy birthday, Harry,” he whispered to himself.

“Happy birthday, Harry,” Zagreus replied.  

Chapter Text

Zagreus and Harry stared at the brick wall that divided platforms 9 and 10. “So...um...” Harry looked unsure and checked his ticket again. “That does say ‘nine and three quarters’, right?”

Zagreus nodded. “Yep, it does.” He wheeled his trolly over to the side. “Maybe there’s a hidden passage or something. I’ll try and dash through and see.”

“Won’t you just run into the wall, then?”

Zagreus shrugged. “Okay, it’s not really a dash, it’s more a short range teleport. I’ll be fine.”

Before Harry could say anything else, Zagreus dashed through the wall with a “thwoomp”.

He found himself standing on another train platform, this one filled with steam. In front of him was a large scarlet machine that he saw people lugging trunks onto. On the side of it read “The Hogwarts Express” in curly gold letters.

Zagreus heard a rattling sound and barely jumped out of the way before a redheaded boy, about sixteen, ran through, pushing a trolley with a trunk on it. “Don’t stand in front of the gateway! Some of us have places to be!” snapped the boy.

“Hello to you too,” grumbled Zagreus as the boy strutted off. Soon after, two more redheads came through, a pair of twins. Finally, Harry came through with yet another redheaded boy who looked about the same age, both of them pushing his trolley along with their own.

“Thanks mate,” said Zagreus, walking over to get his trolley. “Sorry, I would’ve come back through, but some rude redhead nearly ran me over.” He looked towards the other boy. “Er, not you.”

The young redhead winced. “Was it the oldest one or the twins?”

“The oldest one, I think?”

“Yeah, that checks out. Percy’s probably hurrying to the Prefect meeting,” the boy grumbled, wheeling his trolley away. “Perfect Percy the Perfect Prefect...”

Zagreus and Harry looked at each other. “What’s a prefect?” asked Zagreus.

“Some kind of student leadership thing, I think,” said Harry. “I’m not sure, I don’t think they did it at our school. Come on, let’s get on the train before it leaves without us.”

The two boys found an empty compartment and loaded their trunks onto the luggage rack as the train whistle sounded. Zagreus covered his ears and winced as the train started moving. “I keep forgetting the mortal world is so loud...” he muttered.

“Don’t worry, you get used to it,” Harry reassured him. 

As the two boys got situated in the compartment, the door slid open, revealing the redhead from earlier. “Can I sit here?” he asked. “Everywhere else is full.”

Zagreus looked at Harry, who nodded. “Sure, come on in.” The boy’s shoulders slumped in relief as he pulled his trunk inside. “I’m Zagreus, and this is Harry.”

“Ron Weasley,” the boy introduced himself. He turned to Harry. “Um...your last name wouldn’t happen to be ‘Potter’, would it?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, feeling a bit apprehensive. “Why?”

“Oh, well...Fred and George mentioned they saw your scar. I thought they might be playing a joke again but...well...”

Zagreus was confused. “Fred and George?”

“My brothers. The twins who came through the barrier right before us.” Ron pointed at his forehead. “Have you really got the...y'know...?”

Harry nervously pushed his bangs back. Ron grinned. “Wicked!”

As Ron turned his attention to Zagreus. Harry sighed in relief. He knew the boy probably hadn’t meant to stare, but it still made him a bit uncomfortable. “Where are you from...Zagreus, right? You don’t sound British.”

“Greece,” Zagreus explained. “My mother came up here for work so I followed her up here to go to school.” Harry was impressed by how easily the lie came from Zagreus.

“What’s Greece like?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Zagreus admitted. “I live in one of those magical cities that’s kind of cut off from everything else. It’s underground so...”

“Blimey...I can’t imagine living in a cave my whole life,” Ron shook his head.

“Are all your family wizards?” Harry asked. He wanted to know more about being raised in the wizarding world.

Ron nodded. “Yeah, far as I know. I think Mum has a second cousin who’s an accountant or something but other than that...” He shrugged.

“You must know loads of magic already then.”

Ron wrinkled his nose. “Not really. It’s hard to do magic without a wand, y’know? I mean some people like Dumbledore can do it but...well, he’s Dumbledore.”

“Dumbledore is the Headmaster, right?” asked Zagreus.

Ron nodded. “Yeah. And not only that, but he defeated this really bad dark wizard back in the forties. Grindlewald, I think his name was.”

“Worse than Voldy what-ever?”

Ron stared at him for a second, open mouthed, then snorted. “Sorry, just...Voldy Whatever. I’m calling You-Know-Who that now.”

“Well there’s no need to remember his name if nobody will say it.”

“Well anyways, I don’t know much, but I know Grindelwald went after all of Europe, not just England. Dumbledore defeated him and locked him up! And not only that, but it's said that Dumbeldore was the only one that You-Know...Voldy Whatever was afraid of. Ever.”

“That definitely sounds like an accomplishment,” noted Zagreus, nodding.

“I heard you went to live with Muggles,” Ron continued, turning his attention back to Harry. “What are they like?”

Harry wrinkled his nose. “Awful. Or...no, sorry. Most of them are fine. My aunt, uncle, and cousin hate magic, though. So...”

Ron winced. “Yikes.”

“Yeah, wish I had three wizard brothers.”

“Five,” Ron corrected, suddenly looking gloomy. “I’m the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts and...I’ve got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie already graduated. Bill was Head Boy, Charlies was Quidditch Captain. Now Percy’s a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot but everyone thinks they’re really funny...” Ron sighed. “And it doesn’t matter if I do anything cool or amazing because they already did it first.”

Harry winced. That didn’t sound fun.

“You never get anything new with five brothers, either. I’ve got Bill’s old robes, Charlie’s old wand, and Percy’s old rat.” 

As he said the last part, Ron reached into his jacket and pulled out a fat gray rat. “His name is Scabbers and he’s useless.”

Zagreus eyed the rat suspiciously. “Are you sure? I’m getting a weird feeling from that rat.”

Ron snorted. “All he does is sleep and eat. So yeah, I’m sure.”

Harry shrugged. “I mean, I had to wear my cousin’s old clothes for the longest time so, I guess I kind of know about that? Maybe?”

Ron blinked, looking a bit more cheery. “Really? You too?”

Zagreus frowned. “I hope Mel doesn’t feel that way about me...she’s amazing.”

“Mel?”

“Melinoe, my younger sister. She’s back in Greece, and even though she’s younger, she’s way more talented with magic than I am.” Zagreus shrugged. “I guess I have a lot to live up to as well.”

Ron seemed significantly happier hearing that. The three continued to chat, though it was mostly Ron and Harry talking about their lives while Zagreus occasionally commented. At around noon, a lady with a food and candy trolley came by, and Harry proceeded to buy out half the cart, which relieved Ron since all his mother had packed for him was corned beef sandwiches.

“What is it with wizard candy and being over the top?” asked Zagreus, studying a Bernie Bott’s Every Flavor bean as if staring at it would reveal the taste. Ron had informed him that they meant every flavor, including things like grass and booger.

Ron shrugged. “Maybe wizard candy isn’t over the top. Maybe Muggle candy is just boring.”

“Yeah, but muggles don’t have to worry about their candy randomly tasting like grass,” Harry pointed out, studying the card that had come with the Chocolate Frogs. Then he frowned. “Wait, did Dumbledore’s portrait just wink?”

Zagreus scooted over to look, and sure enough, Dumbledore just walked out the frame. “He’s gone!” exclaimed Zagreus.

Ron stared at them. “Well, yeah. You can’t expect him to hang around all day, can you?”

Zagreus just sighed. “Harry,” he whispered. “I think all these wizards are slightly insane.”

Harry stifled a giggle.

The door opened once again and Zagreus groaned. He was trying to read the history textbook while Ron taught Harry how to play a game called “Exploding Snap”. The door had already opened twice now, once by a pudgy blonde boy and one by a brunette girl with flyaway hair. They’d both been looking for the blonde boy’s toad, apparently.

As the girl, who had talked at a million miles an hour, closed the door, Ron rolled his eyes. “Whatever house I get in, I hope she isn’t in it.”

“Oh Ron, she wasn’t that bad. I have a cousin who talks just as fast as she does.”

“Zagreus, you have like twenty cousins,” Harry had pointed out. “You’ve got a cousin for every color of the rainbow and then some.”

“What’s your point?”

Now the door had opened yet again, and there was another blonde boy, but he didn’t look anything like the other one. He was cold and pointy, and he was flanked by two brick-like boys. “Is it true?” he asked haughtily. “They’re saying all down the train that Harry Potter’s in this compartment. That’s you, isn’t it?”

Harry shifted uncomfortably, looking back and forth between the two bricks. “Yes...who’s asking?”

“These two are Crabbe and Goyle. And I’m Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.”

Ron badly suppressed a snort and Malfoy turned to him. “Think my name’s funny, do you?” he snapped. “No need to ask who you are. My father told me that all Weasleys have red hair, freckles, hand me down clothes, and more children than they can afford.”

Zagreus saw Ron’s face redden as Malfoy turned to him. “And you! You must be in the same boat if you can’t afford a proper haircut. Can’t even be bothered to style your bedhead I see. Who are you?”

“Zagreus Toukhthon.” Zagreus waved, disliking this kid more and more by the minute. “Hello.”

Malfoy scowled. “I’ve never heard of any wizarding ‘Toukhthon’.” He turned back to Harry. “You’ll soon find that some wizarding families are better than others.” He held out his hand for a handshake. “I can help you there. You don’t want to go making friends with,” he wrinkled his nose. “blood traitors and mudbloods.”

Ron shot up out of his seat. “Okay, I’ve heard enough, get out!”

Harry scowled at Malfoy. “Yeah, I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks.”

Malfoy’s face went a bit pink. “I’d be careful if I were you, Potter. Unless you’re a bit politer you’ll go the same way as your parents. They didn’t know what was good for them, either.”

That was it. Zagreus snapped his book shut and glared at the blonde. “And unless you learn some manners, you’ll end up with a sword to the gut,” he hissed. “Now get out.”

Malfoy paled and started to back up, but then seemed to remember his two bodyguards were there and regained confidence. “Oh? Are you going to fight us?”

“We will if you don’t get out,” said Harry. Zagreus could tell he was scared of the two bricks but was trying to be brave anyways. Good for him.

“But we don’t feel like leaving, do we boys?” said Malfoy with a smirk. “We’ve eaten all of our food, but you still seem to have some left.”

One of the boys, the one Malfoy had pointed out a Goyle, grinned menacingly and reached for the pile of snacks. Suddenly, he yelped and jerked his hand back. Hanging off his finger was Scabbers, his teeth sunk into the flesh.

Goyle yelped and ran about the cabin. Zagreus leapt up onto the seat. “A King Vermin! I knew it!”

“Get it off! Get it off!” yelled Goyle, flailing around. Finally, one of his flails dislodged the rat, and Scabbers flew and hit the window with a loud thunk.

The three boys fled out of the compartment and down the hall as Ron scooped up Scabbers. “Is he alright?” asked Harry.

Ron rolled his eyes. “He's fine. Scabbers is indestructible, I swear. He just fell asleep again.” He looked towards Zagreus and grinned. “I can't believe you threatened to stab a Malfoy! That was wicked!”

Zagreus felt his face heat up as he pushed some of his hair back. He'd really flown off the handle there... “I don't know what came over me...normally I try to give people more of a chance then that...”

“Well he said two slurs in the space of ten seconds and taunted Harry about his parents. I think you can safety make an exception for him.”

“Oh yeah. What’s a ‘blood traitor’?” asked Harry.

Ron rolled his eyes. “That’s just what people like Malfoy call wizards who don’t think Muggles are primitive animals, like my family. Lucius Malfoy was part of You-Know-Who’s followers, I heard. After the war he said he’d been controlled by magic but...” Ron shook his head in disgust. “I guess that was Malfoy Junior. Great.”

“So if you’re the blood traitor,” said Zargeus, scowling. “I guess that makes me the ‘mudblood’, right?”

Ron winced. “Yeah, don’t go throwing that word around. It’s a really, really bad slur for muggleborns.” 

“Like my mom,” said Harry, looking quite angry at the thought.

Zagreus sighed. “First ‘redblood’ and now ‘mudblood’. Well, it’s inaccurate anyhow. Most everyone in my family can use magic to some extent.” I assume divine power counts as magic...

Harry stifled a giggle, obviously thinking along the same lines. If only the Malfoy boy knew who he was really talking to...

Ron's face was red. “I can't believe he just...he used it so casually! I mean...he's got no right! He...ugh!”!” He turned to Zagreus. “Anyone calls you that again, give them a good punch to the nose. That's my advice. I'll back you up if you lose points for it.”

Zagreus grinned, hearing the determination and honesty in the redhead’s voice. He felt the beginnings of a bond start to form joining all the others he had. He also felt another one form between Ron and Harry, joining the former three that Harry had: to Zagreus himself and to each of his parents. “I'll hold you to that.”

Suddenly, a voice was heard through the train. “We will be arriving at Hogwarts in five minutes. Please change into your robes if you haven’t already. Leave all your luggage on the train, it will be taken up to your dorm rooms.”

“Guess that’s our cue,” said Zagreus.

As the three boys were changing into their robes, the Dursleys were arriving back at Privet Drive. Vernon was humming a happy tune, and Petunia shared his mood.

Seeing that freak and that demon staring despondently at the brick wall had lifted her spirits like nothing else. The same brick wall that the freak of a sister had gone through, waving happily...

Her sister...Lily...

Petunia shook the thought away. The freak was gone. And if those other freaks saw sense, he wouldn't be returning.

That boy, that freak, that last reminder of her sister and what they could have had if only her sister hadn’t been “perfect” (if only Petunia had overcome her grudge...). He was gone. And she was free!

Free to live a life of normalcy, to keep up with the Johnsons down the road, to cover for Dudley whenever misunderstandings popped up...to cook...to clean...because now nobody else would do it...

Petunia frowned as Vernon opened the front door. Being rid of the freak should be satisfying. Why wasn’t it satisfying?

Her thoughts were cut off when Vernon flipped on the lights to reveal three figures standing in the living room. Petunia shrieked and jumped back as she looked at them.

They were dressed like streetwalkers, all of three of them. Skirts that were too short, far too much makeup...well, except the one in green. She needed more makeup. Was she even alive?

They all had their hair tied up in ponytails and a single bat wing coming out of their backs. The purple one stood tall and confident, the one in red had laid on the couch and kicked up her heels as if she owned the place, and the green one was pacing around, hissing at various things.

“Well, look who’s back,” said the red one in a gleeful tone. “Finally! I was thinking we’d have to come back tomorrow!”

“Who the devil are you?” snapped Vernon. “Get out of my house!”

The three didn’t even flinch. The purple one stepped forward. “I assume you are Vernon Dursley.” Her eyes flitted to Petunia, who tried to shrink against the wall. “And that would make you Petunia.” Her eyes moved to Dudley, who was shivering in his father’s large shadow. “And you would be Dudley.”

“Who...” squeaked out Petunia. “You...you’re with the demon...” They had to be, they had the same dangerous look about them.

“The demon?” snorted the one in red. “Is she talking about the redblood?”

“He has a name, Alecto,” sighed Purple.

“Yeah, but I’m not the one screwing him, so I don’t care to remember.”

“Murder,” said the one in green who looked like a corpse. She didn’t even have eyes!How was that even possible?

“Can we get back to the matter at hand?” sighed Purple. She seemed to be the leader. “In answer to your question, that ‘demon’ as you call him, was actually holding us back until he could get Harry out of here. Something about not wanting collateral damage. But now he’s gone. So here we are.”

“Murder!” said Green.

“And what do you bloody expect to do here, hm?” snapped Vernon. “I’ll call the police and they’ll be over in five minutes! I know the constable-!”

“Oh, zip it you lardbucket,” said Red. “We can only be seen by the ones that we’re punishing. That constable friend of yours would come over and assume you’re insane!”

“Murder!”

“What? I’m not bodyshaming him! Look at him! That’s his exact description!”

“Murderer murder murder!”

“Your crimes are as follows,” said Purple, interrupting the other two. “You have allowed your passions to guide your actions, not only harming Harry Potter, but several other victims. You are guilty of slothfulness and unwillingness to better yourselves, instead pushing the blame onto others. Finally,” she snapped her whip for emphasis, “you, Vernon Dursley, on the twenty third of June, killed Harry Potter by blunt force trauma. You are guilty of his murder.”

“...murder?” squeaked Petunia. “But he's not dead! We just saw-”

“He was able to come back only because the Fates have a plan for him.” Purple wrapped the whip around her fingers. “However, that does not erase what you did. It does not erase anything you have done.”

“You should feel honored, mortals,” said Red, with a wide grin that showed rows of shark-like teeth. “It's been a long time since we've all been on a hunt together.”

Green scowled at Vernon. “Murderer! Murderer murderer! Murder!”

“What she said,” said Purple.

Vernon went violet with rage and raised a fist. “NOW SEE HERE! YOU COME INTO MY HOUSE DRESSED LIKE A BUNCH OF WHORES-”

The corpse-like one cracked her whip across his face with such force that Vernon stumbled back and fell on his butt. An angry red mark now stretched from cheek to eyebrow across his face. Petunia shrieked and began running, only to trip due to her heels and twist her ankle, falling to the floor. She heard Dudley running past her quickly, huffing and puffing.

Red cackled as the three sisters began to descend on the Dursleys. “Oh, I do love it when they try to make it exciting, don't you?”

Chapter Text

“GRYFFINDOR!”

Zagreus clapped as Harry walked over to the Gryffindor table to shouts of “We got Potter! We got Potter!” from what sounded like Ron’s twin brothers. Harry’s sorting had taken a while, longer than some of the others. Definitely longer than Draco Malfoy’s sorting, since the hat had barely touched his head before shouting “SLYTHERIN!”

Zagreus didn’t want to say that every single Slytherin was completely and totally evil. After all, ambition and cunning were admirable traits. Still, between Malfoy, his thugs, and Voldemort, he could see why others had a low opinion of the house.

As “Thomas, Dean” was also sorted into Gryffindor, Zagreus readied himself. Moment of truth. “Toukhthon, Zagreus!” called the stern witch that Hagrid had called Professor McGonagall.

Zagreus sighed in relief. Not that he had any doubts of Lady Hecate or Lord Hermes’ abilities, but since he hadn’t gotten a letter…well, he wasn’t sure how it would turn out.

Zagreus sat on the stool as McGonagall lowered the hat onto his head. “…what…what is this?” squeaked a voice. It sounded like the Sorting Hat.

“Hello?” asked Zagreus. No, wait. Hello? He thought. Are you the Sorting Hat?

“I…yes, Prince.”

None of that Prince nonsense. I’m just here as a student to make sure a prophecy comes to pass.

“So I see…I assume that it’s Gryffindor for you as well, then?”

That would be best. Though I do wonder which house I’d be in otherwise. Er…nobody else can hear this right?

“Not to worry. I’m unable to divulge the secrets of any students, including yours. Now, as for your house…well, you’ve got a good mind, that’s for sure, but you don’t focus on that enough for Ravenclaw. You could do well in Slytherin. You have a willingness to fight dirty and break rules to do what’s right. However…unlike a Slytherin, your loyalty knows no bounds. And the only condition is that the recipient of your loyalty treat you well. So, the best fit would be Hufflepuff or Gryffindor. That being said, your…ah, particular brand of problem solving involves cutting your way through hordes of monsters. So as far as I’m concerned, even without other factors you’d be a great fit for…GRYFFINDOR!”

The Hat shouted the last word for all the hall to hear as McGonagall took the Hat off Zagreus’ head. Zagreus grinned and waved to the Sorting Hat (though he wasn’t sure it could see him) as he walked down to the table draped in red. Harry scooted over to make room for him.

“Glad you made it,” said Harry. “I got worried ‘cause you took so long.”

“Was it that long?” asked Zagreus. “I guess we did go back and forth for a while.”

“You were a Hatstall,” said the bushy-haired girl from the train (Hermoine, Zagreus remembered).

“A what?”

“It’s when the Hat takes more than five minutes to decide on your house. I think Harry was almost a Hatstall as well, but I’m not sure.”

Meanwhile, Lisa Turpin became a Ravenclaw, and then it was Ron’s turn. Zagreus saw Harry cross his fingers under the table. Ron looked pale as the Sorting Hat went on his head. But his worry was for nothing since it took all of five seconds for the hat to declare him a “GRYFFINDOR!”

Harry and Zagreus clapped as Ron all but fell into the seat on Harry’s other side. Zagreus saw one of the twins reach over to ruffle Ron’s hair until Ron batted his hand away. “Well done, Ron,” said the oldest redhead, Percy, pompously from across the table.

Zagreus internally groaned. He still hadn’t forgotten Percy nearly running him over.

The last student, Blaise Zabini, was placed into Slytherin, and McGonagall rolled up the scroll she had been reading the names from. She took the Sorting Hat and stool and walked off the stage. Meanwhile, the man sitting in the center of the large High Table had stood up. He had a long white beard and hair and was dressed in a robe covered with stars and moons.

The man with the beard, who Zagreus realized must be Dumbledore based on the chocolate frog card, smiled at everyone in the hall. “Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Now, before we begin our banquet, I have a few words to say. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!”

And then he sat down. Zagreus just shook his head. It was official: wizards were completely insane.

Then a wonderful smell hit his nose, and Zagreus looked down to see that the plates had been filled with all sorts of food, some of which Zagreus hadn’t seen the like of before. He quickly took some of the meats as well as a mound of mashed white stuff and a scoop of round green things. What were those called again, grapes? No, grapes were bigger. These were peas.

Zagreus saw Harry piling his plate high with pretty much everything and grinned. It was good to see the kid indulging himself a bit.

Meanwhile, Ron was talking with one of the many ghosts floating around the hall, calling him “Nearly-Headless Nick.”

The ghost huffed. “I would prefer Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-“

“How can you be ‘nearly’ headless?” wondered a sandy-haired boy.

The ghost groaned. “Like this.” He took a hold of a bunch of hair on the side of his head and pulled. His head swung to the side as if on a hinge, only connected by the barest strip of skin.

Zagreus winced. Apparently, someone hadn’t beheaded him properly. That was the problem with being a ghost: you stayed in the same state you died in, wounds and all. That didn’t happen in the Underworld, unless you went to Tartarus of course (after all, perpetual agony was the point of the place).

Nick flipped his head back onto his neck. “So! New Gryffindors! I hope you’re going to help win the house cup this year? Six years Gryffindor has gone without it…lost to Slytherin six years in a row! The Bloody Baron’s becoming unbearable about it.” Nick nodded towards a ghost hovering near a very uncomfortable looking Malfoy. The Baron looked even worse than Nick. While Nick had seemingly taken his death in stride, the Baron’s death had left him gaunt and absolutely covered in blood. Zagreus vaguely wondered what could’ve happened to leave the Baron with such a haunted look.

Soon enough, the first course vanished, and the second course appeared. This time Zagreus didn’t recognize anything and Harry had to name all the dishes, like “ice cream” and “apple pie” and “treacle tart” and “I don’t know what those peppermint humbugs are still doing out, they came with dinner, too”.

Then Harry went silent for a while, and Zagreus turned to see him staring up at the head table and frowning. “What is it?” Zagreus asked.

“It’s that teacher. See the one with oily black hair?”

Zagreus nodded, seeing a dour and sickly looking man with long black hair. “What about him?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m just being paranoid, but I feel like he’s staring at me. Hey, Percy?” Harry called to the Prefect, who had been having a discussion about classes with Hermoine. “Who’s the teacher sitting next to Professor Quirrel?”

Percy looked up at the table. “Oh, you already know Quirrel? No wonder he looks so nervous, that’s Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but everyone knows he’s after Quirrel’s job.” Percy wrinkled his nose. “Knows a lot about the Dark Arts, Snape.”

About the Dark Arts...not about defending against them? Zagreus and Harry shared a look. This guy might be trouble.

Eventually, the desserts were cleared away, and Dumbledore stood up. 

"Ahem. Just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Zagreus saw the Weasley twins grin at each other.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.” Dumbledore gestured to a sour looking, thin man who was standing by the entrance doors, petting a cat.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Zagreus heard Harry laugh, but quickly stop as he realized nobody else was laughing along. “...is he serious?” Harry asked Percy.

“Must be,” Percy replied. “Strange. Usually he gives us more of a reason as to why we’re not to go somewhere.”

Zagreus hid a smirk. Everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death, huh? Too bad for him, I’m already used to that. Seems I’ll be checking that area out.

“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!”

The sound that followed would have made Orpheus weep in sheer despair. Why, oh why did everyone pick a different tune?

Zagreus’ ears were still ringing as Percy and the other prefects lead the new Gryffindors up several stories of moving stairs (“Careful, they like to change,” warned one of the other prefects, who Zagreus hadn’t gotten the name of). 

Eventually, the group was led to a moving painting of a large woman, who asked for a password. “Caput Draconis,” Percy replied, and the painting swung out to reveal a large hole in the wall that the students clambered through.

“Why do we need a password?” wondered Zagreus.

“So that none of the other houses can get in,” scoffed Percy, as if that should have been obvious.

Beyond the hole was a large sitting room, cozily decorated in red and gold, with a roaring fireplace surrounded by plush armchairs. Were it not for the large window showing the grounds outside as well as the lack of a kitchen, Zagreus could have easily mistaken it for the lounge back home.

“First years and prefects stay here,” Percy commanded.

“Oi, who’s the senior prefect, you or me?” snapped an older boy. “Anyways, what he said.”

The first year students settled on the various loveseats, sofas, and chairs around the room as the prefects, three boys and three girls, surrounded the fireplace. Zagreus heard the portrait open again, and Professor McGonagal stepped into the room and stood in front of the fireplace.

“All first years present and accounted for, Professor!” said Percy. Zagreus saw all the other prefects simultaneously roll their eyes.

“Thank you, Mr. Weasley.” McGonagall turned to face the first years. “Welcome, new students. Congratulations on having been sorted into Gryffindor. As you heard during the Welcoming Feast, each of the Four Founders of Hogwarts created a house to care for the students with the traits the founders felt were the most important. Our founder, Godric Gryffindor, prized bravery, determination, and chivalry in his students. However,” McGonagall gave everyone a stern look, “Bravery does not mean stupidity, and I have seen that line crossed many a time. Know that despite what Fred and George Weasley may tell you, I will have no sympathy for troublemakers. Understood?”

Everyone nodded and gave various noises of understanding. “Good. If you have questions or troubles, please seek out one of our prefects. That is what they are there for. Now, I’m sure you’re all quite tired. Boys dorms are on the left, and girls on the right. First year dorms are directly beside the stairs. Schedules will be passed out tomorrow at breakfast. Do not be late.”

With that, the prefects began directing the first years to their respective dorms. Zagreus soon found the door with his name on it, which was written beside Harry’s, Ron’s, and “Neville Longbottom”’s who Zagreus remembered was the pudgy blonde boy from earlier.

As they entered, Zagreus was pleased to see that the room was outfitted in the same manner as the gathering area, with crimson sheets and pillows. In addition, all the luggage had apparently been teleported to their rooms.

Zagreus had thought that the first night, he would try exploring while everyone else was asleep. But even gods needed to sleep sometimes, and between the excitement of the past weeks, the train ride, and the filling feast, Zagreus was soon out like a light, just like everyone else.

Chapter Text

“There, over there!”

“Where?”

“Next to the redhead?”

“That’s him?”

“No, the one with the glasses!”

“Did you see his face?”

“Did you see his scar?”

Those whispers followed the group of three boys everywhere over the first week of class. Everyone was trying to get a glimpse of “the Boy Who Lived”, leaning over banisters and whispering to each other in the hallways.

Zagreus felt incredibly exposed, and he wasn’t even the one the stares were directly aimed at. Harry, meanwhile, constantly looked like he wanted to sink through the floor. “Maybe if you bought a hat?” asked Zagreus.

“Wouldn’t help,” said Harry, morosely. “I think everyone knows my face by now.”

“All the whispering is pretty annoying,” Ron admitted, though he looked conflicted.

It was annoying, and it made it hard to try and figure out the way to classes. The moving stairs didn’t help, and the ghosts gave confusing instructions (or, in the case of a particularly nasty poltergeist named Peeves, intentionally misleading ones). At one point the three had ended up in the forbidden corridor, and had been chased out by Filch the caretaker. It was at that point Zagreus learned why the caretaker was so unpopular: he always assumed kids wanted to cause trouble and had a nasty temper to boot. And his cat, Mrs. Norris, shared his personality.

The classes were a whole other set of difficulties. Zagreus had always known, from watching Mel, that magic was difficult. But the magic taught at Hogwarts was also a whole other kind of magic from the stuff Melinoe did. It involved incantations, but they were shorter and involved waving your wand a specific way and forcing your magic out through it. At the same time you had to have a clear picturing in your head of what you wanted to happen.

Overall, most of the classes gave Zagreus a headache, save for Transfiguration and Herbology. After transforming her desk into a pig and back again, Professor McGonagall had given a stern lecture about how Transfiguration was very dangerous and that anyone who messed around would be kicked out of class.

Zagreus understood that idea in principle, but it fell a bit flat when the first thing she had them do was transform matchsticks into needles. Zagreus got it after five or ten tries. He’d cheered when he first did it, but his excitement rapidly turned to embarrassment when McGonagall held up his needle as an example. He tried to smile back when she nodded at him, but he could feel the gazes of everyone on him and wanted to sink under the table.

The only other person who managed to get the transformation right was Hermoine Granger, who McGonagall also complimented. Unlike Zagreus, she preened under the compliments and smile McGonagall gave her.

Herbology, meanwhile, came as second nature to the son of the Goddess of Verdure. Zagreus traded between working with Harry and working with Neville, who had a real eye for plant care. “I...I help tend the gardens at home...” said Neville shyly during one session. “It’s relaxing...and nobody watches me there...”

Zagreus nodded. “I help my mother tend her garden at home too. I think she’d like you.”

Neville had given Zagreus a nervous smile and went back to working.

Zagreus had been looking forward to History of Magic, which was apparently taught by a ghost. But sadly, the ghost did not regale the class with stories from his life but instead droned on in an incredibly boring way that reminded Zagreus of his father’s lectures on the infernal filing system. He found it was a much better use of class time just reading the textbook, which, although dense, was more interesting.

Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Quirrel was unnerving. Zagreus couldn’t describe why, but he felt chills down his spine every time he looked at the man. It wasn’t as if the man cut an imposing figure. He was pale, skinny, and stuttered something fierce. Supposedly, the turban he wore was a thank-you gift from a Moroccan prince for getting rid of a nasty zombie. But when an Irish boy named Seamus Finnigan asked how Quirrel had banished the zombie, the professor had quickly turned to commenting on how nice the weather was.

There was just something...off about him, and Zagreus told Harry and Ron as much. “I don’t know why, but he unnerves me.”

Harry frowned. “I keep getting a mild headache whenever we’re in the classroom. I think it might be the smell.”

“Yeah,” said Ron. “I heard a rumor he’s afraid of some vampire coming after him, so he stuffs his turban with garlic just in case.”

On Friday morning at breakfast, Hedwig the owl flew into the Great Hall carrying a letter for Harry. Apparently, owls were the normal messengers in the Wizarding World. Harry opened the letter and read over it. “What is it?” asked Ron.

“Hagrid invited me over for tea after classes! Do you guys want to come?”

Zagreus smiled, remembering the friendly giant. “Sure! I bet he’d be glad to have the company.”

“Hagrid’s the groundskeeper, right?” asked Ron. “Fred and George have told me about him. Apparently he’s the one in charge of keeping them out of the forest.”

“Can I borrow your quill?” Ron handed Harry his feather. “Thanks.” Harry quickly scribbled out a reply, then gave the letter back to Hedwig along with a piece of bacon.

Zagreus would come very close to not being able to come along, however. That was due to Potions class and Professor Snape.

Things went badly from the very start. As Snape read out the roll call, he eventually got to Harry’s name. “Ah, yes,” he sneered. “Harry Potter. Our new...celebrity.”

Some of the Slytherins giggled. Zagreus saw Harry’s face go red and scowled.

Snape started pacing around the front of the room, never taking his eyes off the students. "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses.... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death -- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Oh good. This guy was trying to be his father. Zagreus had to suppress a snort, imagining the greasy teacher trying to be more snarky and intimidating than the Lord of the Underworld. On his left, he saw Hemoine Granger sit forward and try to look attentive. 

Zagreus sighed inwardly. He wanted to tell her it wouldn’t matter. If his hunch was right, and he was pretty sure it was, then it didn’t matter how attentive she tried to be. If Snape decided he didn’t like her for whatever reason, nothing would change his mind. 

Zagreus was snapped out of his thoughts when Snape rounded on Harry. "Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air, but Harry just looked confused. "I don't know, sir," Harry admitted.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Tut, tut. Fame clearly isn't everything. Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go, looking like her arm might pop out of the socket from the strain. Snape, however, ignored her.

"I don't know, sir." Harry repeated. 

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

Zagreus ground his teeth. What was this? He’d heard rumors that Snape hated anyone not in his house, but this just seemed like he was going after Harry specifically.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione stood up. “He’s not going to call on you,” whispered Zagreus, but Hermoine didn’t seem to hear him.

"I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

Zagreus snorted, and a few other people giggled.

"Sit down," Snape snapped at Hermione. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite.” He paused, then looked around expectantly. “Well? Why aren’t you writing this down?”

As everyone quickly grabbed their quills, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter."

“You have got to be kidding,” hissed Zagreus. Luckily, it seemed like the stretching of pens on parchment drowned it out.

Things only got worse from there. Snape put the students into pairs to make a “Cure for Boils” potion. Harry paired with Ron and Zagreus paired with Hermoine.

“I can’t believe he went after Harry like that,” Zagreus grumbled as he weighed some ingredients. “How was he supposed to know those answers on the first day?” He looked over at Hermione, who was currently crushing some nettles. “Come to think of it, how did you know the answers?”

Hermione blushed. “Oh...well...I was so excited to come to a magic school that I read all the textbooks cover to cover over the summer. The stuff he asked was near the end.”

Zagreus stared at the girl. “All of them? And you remembered that kind of specific information?”

“I have a really good memory.”

“That’s really impressive.”

Hermoine blushed and looked away. “I...thanks.”

Suddenly, a greenish smoke filled the room and there was a scream. Everyone turned in the direction of the noise to see that Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus Finnagen’s cauldron, and the potion was now leaking across the floor and burning holes in people’s shoes.

Everyone stood on their stools and tables as boils began popping up all over Neville’s skin as the poor boy whimpered. “Idiot!” snapped Snape. “I suppose you forgot to take the cauldron off the fire before adding the porcupine quills?”

Neville didn’t answer, just letting out another whimper. “Take him up to the hospital wing!” Snape growled at Seamus, who took Neville’s arm and hurried out of the room.

Then Snape rounded on Harry. “You! Potter! Why didn’t you tell him not to add the quills? Thought it would make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That’s another point you’ve lost-”

“What is your problem?” snapped Zagreus, slamming his hands on the counter. “Harry wasn’t even paired up with Neville. If anything, you should be blaming Seamus!”

Snape scowled at Zagreus. “I don’t recall giving you permission to talk over me.”

“And I don’t recall Harry doing anything to earn your ire, but here we are! You’ve been going after him all class! Why?”

“Be quiet!” 

“No! You’re a grown man going after an eleven year old boy! You call yourself a teacher?” Zagreus snorted. “I’ve had teachers. You’re not a teacher. I thought the rumors were exaggerations, but apparently, I was wrong. No wonder nobody can stand you. You’re a downright bully!”

The entire room was deathly quiet for what felt live several minutes.

“Congratulations, Mr. Toukhthon,” said Snape in an icy voice. “I do not believe anyone besides the Weasley twins has earned a detention in my class so quickly. Twenty points from Gryffindor, and you’ll be in the dungeons tomorrow afternoon scrubbing cauldrons.” Snape looked down his nose at Zagreus. “Perhaps a few hours of hard labor will teach a brat like you some respect.”

Ron shook his head as the group climbed the stairs after the potions lesson. On the way out, several other Gryffindors had given Zagreus pats on the back, congratulating him for not being intimidated by the dungeon bat. Hermoine seemed much less enthused, but it didn't seem she could bring herself to reprimand Zagreus either.

“Man, now I see why the hat put you in Gryffindor,” Ron said. “I can’t believe you stood up to Snape of all people.”

Zagreus shrugged. “You saw how he was going after Harry. Anyways, he’s not that scary. No worse than my father on a bad day. He’s gotten better!” He said quickly, upon seeing Ron’s horrified expression. “But...well, we’ll never have that typical father-son bond, I don’t think.”

Ron just shook his head again. “Mental. You’re absolutely mental.” 

The group walked silently for a bit. “...you know, if you want, you can borrow my dad,” Ron finally said. “He’s kind of weird, obsessed with Muggle technology and stuff, but he’s a good guy.” Ron turned to Harry. “That goes for you too, you know? See if you can get those relatives to let you come over during the summer. My mum won’t even notice an extra person or two at the table. Hell, even if she does notice, she’ll be thrilled.”

Harry smiled, a warm feeling blooming in his chest. “Thanks, Ron. And thank you too Zag. I’m sorry you had to stand up for me, because I was too nervous to do it...”

Zagreus grinned. “Don’t worry Harry. You just need practice!”

“Considering we have him once a week, he’s gonna get a lot of that,” said Ron morosely.

“Good,” said Zagreus. “Maybe I’ll deflate his ego a bit. Honestly, going after kids like that...”

Chapter Text

It was a relief to get out of the dark dungeons and into the sunlight, Ron thought. He didn’t understand how Snape and the Slytherins could stand being down there a majority of the time. Though, he didn’t understand a lot about the Slytherins in general. Ambition? Cunning? That was just another way of saying you would stab someone in the back as soon as they annoyed you.

Ron was very glad that he had not been sorted into the Slytherin. He would’ve been alone there. Vulnerable. Much as his brothers annoyed him, having them in the same house was comforting in some ways.

Plus, he was in the same house as Harry and Zagreus! Their coolness made him feel like a bit of a tag along, but maybe he could learn a thing or two. I mean, they both mouthed off to Snape in the first class! They weren’t scared of him at all!

Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It reminded Ron of a smaller, more rustic-looking version of the Burrow.

As Harry knocked on the door, several loud barks came from inside. Then a deep voice came from inside: “Back, Fang! Back!”

An incredibly large man with a beard the size of a possum appeared as the door cracked open. Ron supposed that it must be Hagrid. “Hold on! Back Fang!”

When the door finally opened, Ron finally got a look at Fang. He was a large, black Great Dane, and Hagrid was struggling to keep a hold of his collar. “Come on in, you lot!”

The hut was small, with only one room, but it didn’t feel cramped. More cozy, like the Burrow’s living room when it was actually quiet (a very rare occurrence in the house).

“Make yourself at home,” Hagrid said, letting go of Fang’s collar. As soon as he did, the dog pounced on Ron, bowling him over. 

Ron sputtered and gasped as the large dog licked him all over his face. “Ack! Get him off!”

Ron heard the others laugh and scowled. Traitors.

“This is Ron,” said Harry as Fang finally had mercy on the redhead. “And you remember Zagreus from Diagon.”

“That I do!” said Hagrid. “Nice to see you settling in.” He put three lumps of something that vaguely looked like pastries on three plates, then he glanced over at Ron’s face. “Ah, another Weasley, eh? I’ve spent half my time here chasing your brothers away from the forest.”

Yup, that’s me, thought Ron mournfully as he sat down. Just another Weasley.

He was soon distracted by the pastries though, specifically trying to actually bite into them. Zagreus knocked his pastry on the table, and Ron could’ve sworn it left a dent. Meanwhile, the three boys started filling in Hagrid on their first week of classes. Ron grinned when Hagrid called Filch “that old git” and mentioned that he’d like to introduce Mrs. Norris to Fang. “You know, every time I go up to the school, she follows me everywhere. Filch puts her up to it, I swear.”

Harry also told Hagrid about Snape. “Don’t worry too much about it,” Hagrid replied. “Snape doesn’t like any of the students.”

“But he seemed to hate me the most,” Harry protested. 

“What? Rubbish! Why should he?” Hagrid looked away from Harry as he said that though.

“I mean he asked him three basically-impossible questions at the beginning of class...” Zagreus began, scratching Fang’s ears.

“So!” Hagrid interrupted, turning to Ron. “How’s your brother, Charlie? I liked him a lot, great with animals.”

Well that was kind of convenient. Still... “He’s doing great! Went to work on a dragon reserve in Romania. Apparently it’s a prestigious place, at least for magical creature folks. That’s the only reason Mom let him go without much of a fight, I think.”

“Hey Ron?” Harry asked. “Didn’t you mention when we were on the train that there was a break-in at Gringotts?”

“Yeah,” Ron said, a bit miffed at being interrupted. “Why?”

Harry showed him a tea-stained cutting from The Daily Prophet .

“GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST,” the headline said. Ron took the article to read it aloud, and Zagreus looked over his shoulder.

“Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown. Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied a few days before. ‘But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you,’ said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon...”

Ron shook his head. “Wow, whoever did this must be mad.”

“Which vault does it say was robbed?”

“Seven hundred and thirteen, why?”

“Hagrid, wasn’t that the vault you emptied for Dumbledore?”

“Wait, what?” asked Ron.

“More rock cakes?” asked Hagrid, holding out more of the pastries. Apparently that line of conversation was over.

As the group walked back up to the castle for dinner, Harry filled Ron and Zagreus in on what seven hundred and thirteen was. “So whatever it was, it was really small and totally encased in a burlap bag?” asked Ron. “That doesn’t narrow it down much.”

“You know,” said Zagreus. “When Hagrid was guiding us around, I did feel a strange energy coming off of him. Something powerful. I thought it might be the man himself, but that energy wasn’t there today.”

“You think it might’ve been whatever was in the vault?” asked Ron. “Wait. How can you sense stuff like that?”

“You can’t?” asked Zagreus. The Greek boy seemed genuinely bewildered. 

Ron just shook his head, somewhat exasperated. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask: are you two related? I mean, you’ve got the same hair and eyes...”

Harry and Zagreus looked at each other. “Well would you look at that,” said Zagreus, as if he was just noticing. “I mean, as far as I know we’re not but...” He grinned and shrugged. “Who knows? I have a big family. It’s not unlikely that our families could’ve met at some point, right?”

Harry grinned back. “It’s possible, right?”

Ron frowned. Those two were giving each other the same kind of look that Fred and George gave each other when they were thinking of pranks. He got the sense he was missing something...but what?

At breakfast the next day, Zagreus received a note from a school owl. “What is it?” asked Ron through a mouthful of bacon. Beside him, Hermoine Granger wrinkled her nose.

“It’s a note from Professor McGonagall,” Zagreus said. “It says she wants to meet with me as soon as breakfast is over.”

“What about?” Harry asked worriedly. 

Suddenly, a shadow fell over him and he tried to suppress a shiver. He looked up to see Snape looming over himself and Zagreus like a horror movie monster. “I trust you have not forgotten about your detention, Mr. Toukhthon?”

“No,” said Zagreus. “Funny enough, I haven’t.”

“I haven’t, sir ,” Snape corrected. 

“There’s no need to call him ‘sir’, Professor,” Harry said. 

He realized what he’d said about half a second after he’d finished and Snape rounded on him. “Do you wish to also spend your Saturday evening with me, Potter?”

“He didn’t mean it, sir!” Hermione spoke up. “Don’t worry, I’ll talk to him.”

Snape huffed. “See that you do.” He skulked off.

Harry nearly fell into his food as all the tension went out of his body. “Thanks for the save.”

“You can repay me by not being so sarcastic to him,” said Hermoine. “I know he doesn’t like you, and you don’t like him, but he still determines your grades. Do you want him to flunk you?”

Harry saw Zagreus narrow his eyes. “He might actually go that far...huh.”

“Right. So stop pointlessly antagonizing him.” Hermione sighed. “I’m not saying he doesn’t deserve it, I’m saying it won’t do any good.”

“Is that so?” Zagreus gave Hermoine a mischievous grin as he got up from the table. “Got to go. But don’t tell me it won’t do any good, Hermione. More powerful foes than you have tried and been proven wrong.”

Hermoine sighed as Zagreus left. “Honestly, does he have no sense of self preservation?”

“Given all the stuff he said to Snape, I doubt it,” said Ron, his mouth still full. “Anyways, Fred and George haven’t flunked his class yet, so I don’t think you need to worry about the grade thing.”

“Would you stop talking with your mouth full? You’re going to get crumbs all over my books!”

Harry looked at the Great Hall doors with a sinking feeling in his chest. He hoped Zagreus wouldn’t get in trouble twice over because of him...

Zagreus wasn’t back by the time that breakfast let out, so Harry decided to go up to McGonagall’s office to wait for him. But as he was on his way there, a prefect stopped him. “Harry Potter?” he asked. “Perfect timing. Professor McGonagall wants to see you.”

Why him? Was he in trouble too, for mouthing off to Snape this morning? Harry’s heart sank as the prefect guided him the rest of the way to McGonagall’s office and knocked on the door. “Come in,” Harry heard the professor say, muffled from behind the door.

The prefect opened the door, showing McGonagall sitting behind a large desk of dark wood. Standing in front of the desk was Zagreus, who Harry thought looked rather pleased with himself.

McGonagall looked up. “Mr. Potter, please come in. You may go Mr. Johnson, thank you for bringing him.”

Harry stepped into the office shakily as Prefect Johnson closed the door behind him. McGonagall gestured him forwards. “Mr. Potter, do you know why I called you up here after Mr. Toukhthon?”

Harry gulped. “Is this about Sn...Professor Snape, Professor?”

“Indeed,” McGonagall fixed Harry with a studying look as she tented her hands. “Could you tell me, in your own words, what happened during Potions class on Friday?”

Harry looked at Zagreus, who nodded at him encouragingly. So Harry took a deep breath and explained everything. Snape’s snarky remark at seeing his name on the attendance roster, how he’d singled out Harry for questioning, how he’d blamed Harry for the cauldron accident even though he wasn’t part of the pair that made it happen...

“...and after that, Zagreus snapped at him. Said he was a bully, and then Professor Snape gave him detention,” Harry finished. “And...that’s about it. I think.”

McGonagall sighed. “...I see.” She took off her spectacles and rubbed her temples. “Mr. Toukhthon, you are free to go. I will not overturn your detention with Professor Snape, as you did technically disrespect him. Honestly, you’re lucky the point loss wasn’t worse...but I understand why you did what you did. Now, I would like to speak with Mr. Potter for a second.”

What? Why him? It made sense she’d brought him in to back up Zagreus’ story, but why did she want him alone now? 

Zagreus opened his mouth, maybe to argue, but then shut it again. As he turned to leave, he patted Harry on the shoulder. “I’ll be right outside,” he whispered, before leaving the office.

Professor McGongall shook her head. “Truth be told, I should’ve expected this would happen...but I had hoped Severus would be more mature.” She looked at Harry, then gestured to a wooden chair. “Have a seat, Mr. Potter.”

Harry sat. “How much do you know about your parents’ school years?” asked the professor.

Harry shrugged. “Practically nothing, professor. My...my aunt didn’t really talk about mum much.”

McGonagall pursed her lips. “Right. Of course not. Understand that what I am about to tell you is for informational purposes only. It is not an incentive to copy any behaviors. Do you understand?”

Harry nodded eagerly, grateful for any information on his parents. “Of course, Professor.”

McGonagall sat back. “I have been the Head of Gryffindor for some time, and I was your parents’ head of house as well. Your father...both of your parents were incredibly brave. A credit to the name of Gryffindor. But when they were in school, they were different people. You’ll see, in a few years, that people can change drastically as they get older. Your father was one of those kinds of  people. Back in school, he was part of a group of pranksters. You could say they were the precursors to the Weasley twins. However, sometimes their pranks crossed the line from mischievous into harmful.”

McGonagall looked down. “I’m ashamed to say I was perhaps more lenient than I should have been. Perhaps I also have a slight bias for my house. But regardless, one of their favorite targets was one Severus Snape.”

“Sn...Professor Snape went to school with my parents?”

“Indeed. I believe he and your mother may have grown up in the same neighborhood. They were close friends for the first few years...but eventually they drifted apart.”

Harry’s head swam. His mom had been friends with Snape? “But if he was friends with my mom...why does he hate me?”

“Because,” said Professor McGonagall, “You have Lily’s eyes, but the rest of you is like a copy of James. The one who targeted him with pranks.”

“But...that’s not fair!” Harry protested. “I didn’t even know him! I never knew my father!”

Professor McGonagall put up a hand. “I never said it was fair. And it is unprofessional, make no mistake. I will talk to Severus. In the meantime...just try not to antagonize him or draw attention to yourself.”

Harry sighed. “I’ll do my best, Professor.”

“Good. Now, why don’t you go enjoy the day?”

“Thank you Professor,” Harry said, turning to leave. Suddenly, he had a thought and turned back. “And thank you for telling me about my parents. Even if my dad wasn't the most mature guy in the school.”

Professor McGonagall smiled. “It’s the least I can do. This should not have been kept from you for so long. Now, off you go. I have grading to do.”

Harry smiled and closed the door behind him.

Snape snarled as he slammed McGonagall's office door behind him that evening. How dare she! How dare she tell him to treat Harry Potter like every other student!

After what Potter had done to him...after what she had let them do! He knew they never really got punished, not in a way that mattered. And here she was, all high and mighty Gryffindor, telling him to “move on” and “let go”.

“James Potter is dead, and his son is an orphan! Isn't that enough for you?”

Snape had just stared at McGonagall. “No,” he had said bluntly. Then he’d turned on his heel and walked away.

It isn't enough , he thought as he stomped back towards the dungeons. Because James Potter is still the Golden Boy of Gryffindor and I'm still the slimy snake. It's not enough because everyone cares about his son’s suffering, but nobody cares about mine.

It isn't enough because that boy is alive, and she isn't. And whenever I look at him...I can't stand it! Those eyes, her eyes, watching me. Accusing me.

Reminding me that she picked James Potter over me. Reminding me that I was willing to let her husband and son die so I could comfort her...

No. She never would have known. It all would've worked out. If not for that child...if only he'd gone after the Longbottoms instead!

I will never forgive James Potter. And I will never forgive that brat, that living reminder of my torment.

Not ever.

He found the Greek boy standing outside of the classroom when he got back. He was lounging against the wall, reading. Snape ground his teeth. This one, too, reminded him far too much of James Potter. So arrogant...

He cleared his throat to startle the boy, but Toukhthon only looked up casually, put a bookmark in to save his place, and closed the book. “Hello, Professor Snape,” he said casually, as if they had just met in the hallway by chance.

Snape yanked the door open. “In!” he snapped, pointing inside the classroom. Toukhthon walked inside and Snape followed right after, slamming the door behind him. He passed Toukhthon and stalked over to his desk. “You will be cleaning cauldrons tonight. I want all of them spotless.” He pointed to some soapy water and rags in the corner. “Now, hand me your wand.”

“What, why?” asked the boy.

“Because you will not be doing magic on the sly, that’s why! Now give it to me!”

“Alright, alright. Sheesh.”

The boy wasn’t even fazed! Most first years would have been sobbing by now. But not this boy. He was calm. Composed. Snarky, even.

It made Snape’s blood boil. “Now! Get to it!”

Once he made sure that Toukhthon had actually started cleaning, Snape took out some papers and began to work. He suppressed a grin when he heard the grunts of effort from Toukhthon. That would show the little brat. Snape would keep him until midnight if necessary. Perhaps he could even surreptitiously dirty one of the cauldrons again and have Toukhthon redo it...

Was that humming?

Snape looked up sharply to see Toukhthon, his head up and upper body completely swallowed by the cauldron as he scrubbed the bottom. He was humming some strange tune that sounded like a lullaby.

“Stop that infernal humming!” How dare the boy enjoy himself. This was a punishment!

The humming stopped. But it was replaced by something worse: snickers. 

It couldn’t be. This boy had the audacity to laugh at him? The feared Potions Master who could not be pleased? The Master of the Dungeon, the one that haunted students’ nightmares?

Toukhthon raised his head out of the cauldron. “You really are trying to be my father, aren’t you? Dark. Scary. Grumpy. Snappy. Never pleased. It’s like you’re a greasy mortal version of him...”

...mortal?

“So it doesn’t matter what you try,” Toukhthon continued , wiping down the outside of the cauldron before Snape could think about that choice of words. “I’ve seen it all. I’ve heard it all. You can have me wipe down cauldrons every night for the rest of the school year for all I care. But you won’t stop me standing up to you.”

Snape felt the quill he was using to grade tremble in his hands from the force he was gripping it with. “And why, pray tell, is that? Are you trying to be one of Potter’s little sycophants, hm? Going to ride his coattails to fame?” 

Toukhthon stared at him, seemingly flabbergasted. “What? Why would I...blood and darkness, is the concept of friendship foreign to you?”

A vision of a red haired girl with laughing green eyes flashed past Snape’s vision for a second. He slammed the desk. “You know nothing about me!”

“And you don’t know anything about Harry! If you did, you’d know he’s a sweet kid who just happens to be destined to defeat some magical ‘Dark Lord’.” Toukhthon put air quotes around “Dark Lord” as he said it.

Snape heard a snapping sound. He looked down to realize the quill that he had been grading with was broken. It couldn’t be... “Destined? The Dark Lord is dead. Surely you know that.”

“No he isn’t,” Toukhthon corrected. “You might believe that, but unless we’re talking about a different guy here, there’s some prophecy that Harry is going to defeat him. And I’m here to make the journey easier for him.” Toukhthon shrugged. “Least I can do, really.”

...he knew. Toukhthon knew about the prophecy. Or at least he knew it existed. How? Why? When?

What else did he know? Did he know that Snape was the one who told the Dark Lord...?

“Get out.”

“Huh?”

Snape all but threw Toukhthon’s wand at him. “Out! Out! I never want to see your face again! And you do not speak of that to anyone! Do you hear me?”

“Wait, then you know-”

“Out!” Snape howled, pushing Toukhthon out the door and slamming it behind him.

Snape took several deep breaths as the room spun around him.

The Toukhthon boy knew about the prophecy. He had to also know about Snape’s role in revealing it! Why would he mention it otherwise?

Blackmail. It was blackmail, plain and simple. “Stay away from Harry and me, or I’ll tell everyone what you did.” That’s what the Greek boy had really said.

And...mortal. Why had he called Snape a mortal? Was it a language barrier? No, the boy was fluent in English otherwise. Why would he trip up on that one word?

It was a threat. It had to be.

The next thing Snape knew, he was back in his quarters, downing a bottle of firewhiskey. The last thought he had before passing out in his chair was how Toukhthon would have made a pretty good Slytherin.

Zagreus climbed back into the common room to see Harry and Ron playing Wizard’s Chess. Apparently it was just like regular chess but the pieces moved on their own.

“You’re back already?” asked Harry.

“Yes, I am,” said Zagreus, shaking his head. That had been weird. What had gotten Snape so worked up?

Suddenly, Zagreus was flanked on either side by two redheads. “Make way!” yelled Fred Weasley (or was it George?). “Make way, for the Snape Slayer is here!”

“The what?” Zagreus looked at Harry and Ron, who were both giggling.

“Once again, he returns triumphant!” called George (or maybe Fred?). “From his dangerous delve into the dungeons, he once again has fought and returned in glory!”

“Oh Snape Slayer, tell us your secrets!”

“How did you get such a short detention? What did you do in order to get released?”

Zagreus looked back and forth between the twins before laughing. “Would you believe me if I said I had no idea?”

Chapter Text

Flying lessons were scheduled to occur the next Thursday, which Zagreus was nervous about. He’d barely been up to the surface, much less above it. But he could tell Harry was excited. 

Well, Harry was excited until it was revealed that their house would be paired up with the Slytherins. “Just what I need,” Harry grumbled. “To make a fool of myself on a broom in front of Draco Malfoy.”

“Come on Harry, I’m sure you can’t be any worse than me!” Zagreus tried to reassure him. “Everyone will be staring at the broom trying to...I don’t know, buck me off or something. I’m halfway sure they just won’t work for me.”

Harry wasn’t the only nervous one. Zagreus saw Hermoine with a pile of books that seemed to be all about flying techniques and safety, while Neville admitted that his grandmother had never let him ride one. “Can’t say I blame her,” Harry admitted later. “He gets into enough accidents with his feet on the ground, poor guy.”

Malfoy, meanwhile, went around telling grandiose stories of how he had ridden a broom all his life, and those stories always seemed to end with him very nearly escaping muggles in various flying machines. “Merlin, I wish he would shut up,” Ron groaned. “Even Seamus doesn’t go this over the top.”

At Thursday breakfast, Hermoine was reading aloud from a book called “Quidditch Throughout the Ages” while Neville and Zagreus listened in. Zagreus didn’t understand all the Quidditch hype, himself. The rules made little to no sense, in his opinion. But then again, he’d fought in an arena in front of cheering and fervent crowds, and he supposed that might be just as weird to wizards.

Hermoine’s reading was interrupted when an owl swooped down and dropped something wrapped in brown paper in front of Neville. He opened it quickly, pulling out a small glass sphere that looked like it was filled with white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" Neville explained. "G...Gran knows I forget things...this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red ..." Neville’s face fell as the smoke turned a bright red. "You've...forgotten something..."

“So it tells you that you’ve forgotten something, but not what you’ve forgotten?” Hermoine frowned. “No offense to your grandmother, but that doesn’t seem that useful.”

“Your robe,” said Ron, mouth full of sausage.

“Huh?”

Ron pointed to Neville’s shirt. “You’ve forgotten your robe, mate.”

Neville looked down, realizing he was just in a shirt and pants. “Oh, bugger.”

Suddenly, a pale hand appeared and snatched the Remembrall out of Neville's hands. “A Remembrall?” said a familiar and snooty voice. “How trite.”

Zagreus turned to see Draco, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, sneering while holding the orb in his hands. Across the table, he saw Harry and Ron jump to their feet and grinned.

But nothing was to happen, because that’s when Professor McGonagall showed up. “What is going on here?” she snapped.

“M...Malfoy’s got my Remembrall, Professor,” Nevile said.

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed. “I was just looking.” He tossed the Remembrall casually back to Neville, who fumbled with it before setting it back on the table, and stalked off with Crabbe and Goyle.

“Thanks, Professor,” said Zagreus. “That could’ve gone much worse.” Though privately he was disappointed that he didn’t get to see Harry or Ron slug Malfoy...

At three thirty, the entirety of Gryffindor house walked out to the Quidditch pitch, a large, manicured lawn at the opposite end of the school from the Forbidden Forest. The Slytherins were already there, each of them lined up beside a broom laying on the ground. Facing towards the Slytherins were an equal number of brooms with nobody beside them. Zagreus supposed those must be for the Gryffindors.

Zagreus stood beside a broom, looking down nervously at it. “Fred and George alway complain about the school brooms,” said Ron, who was one person down. “They say they always turn slightly to the left...I don’t know what they’re complaining about, they can’t be any cheaper than the ones we have at...” He cut himself off, his ears going red. “Nevermind.”

Zagreus frowned. He got the feeling that Ron’s family was very thrifty. He wondered why. Perhaps they didn’t have as much gold? That wasn’t anything to be ashamed of, he thought. But maybe it was different for mortals.

As the last of the Gryffindors arrived, a woman with close-cropped gray hair strode onto the field. Her eyes were a bright yellow as she gazed at all of them. “Welcome to your first flying lesson. I am Madam Hooch, the Quidditch referee and coach. Now, stick your hand out over your broom and say ‘up’!”

“Up!” Everyone yelled.

Zagreus’ broom didn’t move, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Harry’s broom shoot up into his hand immediately. He gave the boy a smile of pride. “Nice work!”

He looked back down at his broom. “Up!” he commanded. Nothing.

Okay, time for the real authority. Zagreus concentrated some of his godly power. “ In the name of Hades, I command you to rise! ”

The broom shot into his hand. “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He realized that most people had fallen silent and were staring at him. “What?”

“Did his voice just echo a bit?” he heard Seamus ask quietly.

“Merlin’s pants,” Ron said in an awed tone, “Can you use that tone on Snape next class?”

Nevile stuck out his hand over his broom. “In the name of Ha-yow!” The broom came up and smacked him in the face before falling back to the ground. “Ow...”

Eventually, pretty much everyone had their brooms in their hands, though Zagreus saw a few, including Hermoine and Neville, pick up their brooms when Madame Hooch wasn’t looking. Madame Hooch walked up and down the line, adjusting grips (apparently Malfoy had been doing it wrong for years, which was satisfying to hear).

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle. Three! Two!"

Before Madam Hooch could say “one”, Neville began to float away on his broom. “Get down here, boy!” the coach yelled.

But Neville couldn’t get down. He was ten feet off the ground, twenty feet...

“Hold on, Neville!” Zagreus kicked off on his broom, zooming towards Neville. 

“Not you too!” yelled Madam Hooch. “Both of you, on the ground now!”

It was too late, though. Neville slipped sideways off the broom. Zagreus reached out his arms. “I’ve got you!”

Neville fell straight into Zagreus’ arms. 

That was when the two realized that these brooms weren’t meant to hold more than one person. The broom began lowering rapidly. “Wait!” yelled Zagreus. “Up! Up! Ack! Mayday! Mayday!”

KABLOOM

The two boys plowed into the ground at high speed. 

The two laid there for a bit, Neville laying on top of Zagreus, who had a face full of dirt and grass.

As Zagreus looked up and spat dirt out of his mouth, he saw two Madam Hooches coming towards them, their faces pale. “Hey Madame...why’d you duplicate yourself?”

“Oh dear...you probably have a concussion...” The Hooches pulled Neville off of him, who let out a yelp. “Ah! Sorry. Broken wrist, too. Come on, to the hospital wing with both of you!”

Zagreus felt himself being lifted into the air. "None of you is to move while I take these boys to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch’!”

Zagreus saw the sky turn to stone ceilings. He must’ve been floated inside the castle. He heard the sound of a large door opening. “Poppy?” Madame Hooch called. “Poppy Pomfrey, where are you?”

“I’m right here, you don’t have to shout-oh my goodness! What happened?” The voice was matronly but stern.

“Flying accident. I don’t think either of these boys can be trusted on a broom,” said Madame Hooch, floating Zagreus over to a bed.

“How was I supposed to know they couldn’t carry more than one person?” grumbled Zagreus. 

He got a good look at the person Madame Hooch had called ‘Poppy’ as she came over to inspect him. She was an older woman with steel-colored hair, looking about the same age as Professor McGonagall. She wore a scarlet dress with puffy sleeves under a white apron, and her long hair was pinned back under a white cap and veil.

“Honestly,” grumbled Poppy. “All this fuss about Quidditch and flying...I’ll never understand why people are so willing to hurt themselves doing it...”

“It was my fault, Madame Pomfrey,” whispered Neville. “I panicked...Zagreus was just trying to help...”

Madame Pomfrey shook her head and pressed her wand to Zagreus’ head and started mumbling under her breath. And suddenly, Zagreus felt a strange power rushing through him.

It wasn’t the power of Lord Apollo. It felt more like a mix of the power of Poseidon, cool water flowing through his veins, and the power of his Grandmother, of fertility and green.

But it’s not quite the same as either of them. Something is different. I can’t put a finger on what, but I can tell for sure that this is definitely someone else’s power.

“Is something wrong, Mr. Toukhthon?” asked Madam Pomfrey.

Zagreus realized he’d been staring at her, and that his vision was also no longer doubled. “Oh, no! Not at all. You’re...really good at this. Who did you learn healing from?”

Madam Pomfrey tapped his nose with her wand. “Flattery will get you nowhere with me, young man. Now stay right there while I tend to Mister Longbottom.”

She just totally dodged the question. That’s incredibly suspicious!

A few swishes and taps of Madam Pomfrey’s wand later, Neville was rotating his wrist without wincing. “Now, off with both of you. Back to class!”

The two boys hurriedly left the hospital wing. Neville frowned. “That’s weird...last time, she tried to keep me the whole rest of the day.”

“Who?”

“Madame Pomfrey. It took a lot of pleading for me not to miss dinner.”

“Maybe she’s busy,” Zagreus shrugged. “Or maybe she’s less worried about flying injuries than potions accidents?”

“Maybe...” Neville blushed. “Thanks again for trying to help. I guess I’m not good at flying, either.”

“It was your first time on a broom, Neville. I don’t blame you for being nervous.”

Neville shook his head. “I...I know. I just...I wish there was something I was good at. I’m hopeless with everything...” Neville hung his head. “Maybe Great Uncle Algie was right...maybe I am a Squib...”

Zagreus stopped short. “A what?”

“Oh, right. Maybe they call it something different in Greece...” Neville looked very uncomfortable. “Sometimes, a person is born to magical parents...but they’re a muggle. No magic at all. That’s a squib. And I...I didn’t show any magic at all.”

Neville rubbed his arms like he’d suddenly got a chill. “And everyone was saying ‘oh his poor parents, their son not even having magic’. Great Uncle Algie tried to force it out of me. I finally did some when he dropped me out a window...”

“Wait, he what?” yelped Zagreus.

“It’s okay! I just bounced all the way down the road! Gran was crying, she was so proud-”

“Not because you were unharmed?” Zagreus grabbed Neville’s shoulders and shook him. “Neville, you could have died! Would your parents really want a dead son?”

Neville wilted. “I don’t know...I can’t really ask them...”

Zagreus felt ill. But he tried to put on a brave face for the young boy. “Listen. I didn’t show any powers at first, when I was a kid. And my father did me a lot of wrong back then. But he tried to train me! He never put me through ‘tests’ that could kill me! I...” Zagreus shook his head. “No wonder you're afraid to do anything. If everyone tells you you're powerless, then you'll act powerless!”

Neville shook his head. “Well if that's all it takes, I'm doomed.”

“Don't be ridiculous! You're eleven years old!” Zagreus made sure to look Neville in the eye. “Listen to me, okay? There are people who like to push others down to raise themselves up. And it seems like you had the bad luck to be surrounded by a few of those people. You are stronger than anyone gives you credit for. Take it from another near-squib: the only way you fail is if you never try!”

Neville stared at Zagreus. “You...” He sniffled, tears welling up in his eyes. “You mean it? You...think I can be strong? And brave?”

“Of course!” said Zagreus, throwing his arm around Neville’s shoulders. “Now come on, let's go see if the flying lesson is still going on.”

As the two boys left, Poppy Pomfrey hurried to her office. Mostly, the office was what you’d expect from a hospital matron: clean, sparse, and professional. The only exception was the well situated a little ways behind the desk. It bypassed the castle’s sewer system and went straight to the Black Lake.

Poppy took a deep breath, then jumped inside. She landed with a splash in the water below. Manannan mac Lir, please help me get to Tir nog Nog!

Poppy was buffeted by the currents back and forth, until she forgot which way was up and which was down.

Finally, her head popped above the water. She was no longer anywhere near Hogwarts. The island she was on was covered in apple trees as far as the eye could see. The skies were clear, and the weather was incredibly nice.

“Airmed?” said a voice. Poppy turned to see a redheaded woman standing near a forge that was constructed near the shore. 

“Hello, Lady Brigid,” Poppy curtsied.

“Not that I’m not glad to see you, but what are you doing back here? I thought after what happened with your brother-”

Poppy shook her head. “Circumstances have changed.” Poppy took a deep breath and steeled herself. “The Theoi are back. They’ve crossed our borders again.”

Chapter Text

“You got on the team?” yelped Zagreus. Harry nodded. “Gods, I leave you alone for five minutes...” Zagreus chuckled.

“It was awesome!” said Ron through a mouthful of sandwich. “Malfoy grabbed Neville’s Remembrall and Harry was all ‘give it back’ and Malfoy was like ‘no’ and took off on a broom! So Harry went up too and Malfoy threw it and Harry caught it midair. It was so cool! Then McGonagall came out and we thought he was toast but no! Seeker! In his first year!”

“Oh, right!” Harry pulled the sphere out of his pocket and gave it to Neville. “Here’s your ball back. I hope it didn’t break.”

Neville examined the sphere, then breathed a sigh of relief and gave Harry a grateful smile. “It’s not. Thank you so much Harry!”

Ron finally swallowed his bite of sandwich. “Oh yeah. Also, Malfoy challenged Harry to a wizard’s duel tonight.”

Zagreus picked a very bad time to take a sip of water. “He what ?”

“Yeah, and Ron accepted on my behalf,” Harry said morosely. “Hemoine Granger gave us an earful.”

“Wait, an actual duel?” Zagreus furrowed his brows. “But you just started your training! Won’t be much of a duel.”

“That’s what I keep telling Harry,” said Ron. “He just has to show up and put on a brave face. There’s no way Malfoy could actually hurt him. What could go wrong?”

“STUDENTS OUT OF BED! STUDENTS OUT OF BED, DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!”

“‘It’ll be fine’, you said!” Harry hissed as they ran down the hallway. “‘What could go wrong?’ you said!”

“I didn’t think Malfoy was spineless enough to both wimp out and tattle to Filch!” Ron protested.

“You are! All! A bunch of idiots!” Hermoine Granger panted. Harry felt bad for the girl. She’d tried to stop them only to end up locked out. She hadn’t come by choice like the rest of them. Besides Ron, Zagreus had decided to come along “in case Malfoy tries anything”, and Neville...Harry wasn’t really sure why Neville had come along, only getting a muttered “going to be brave...” from the boy as an explanation.

“In here!” Hermoine called, stopping by a door. “Alohamora!” 

The door unlocked and the five kids scrambled inside. Just outside, they heard Filch running up to the door. “Peeves!” he yelled. “Which way did they go? Tell me!”

“Say please!” said Peeves snidely.

“I don’t have time for this!” grumbled Filch.

“Won’t say nothing if you don’t say please!”

“Ugh, fine! Please.”

“NOTHING!” yelled Peeves, cackling. “Told you I won’t say nothing if you didn’t say please!”

“PEEVES YOU GET BACK HERE!”

Both voices faded away as Filch chased Peeves away down the corridor. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. “He must think this door is still locked. Lucky break...”

“Uh...guys?” Neville squeaked out, tugging on Harry’s sleeve. “I think I know why the door was locked...”

Harry turned around to see what Neville was talking about, and his heart dropped. 

They weren’t in a regular room. They were in a corridor. 

The forbidden third corridor. It had to be.

Why else would there be a monster in there?

It had the general shape of a dog, but had three heads, each the size of Harry’s whole body. They were each attached to a proportionally massive body that nearly touched the ceiling.

Harry opened his mouth to scream...

“PUPPY!”

Harry stared as Zagreus walked right up to the huge monster in front of them and begin experimentally stroking its heads. “Now which one of you likes being petted? Oh, Beta Head likes scritches, don’t you!”

The four kids stared at Zagreus as he gave scritches to the literal monster of a dog. “What are you doing?” asked Hermoine Granger in disbelief. 

“Petting him,” said Zagreus. “Isn’t is obvious?” He turned back to the monster. “Isn’t that right? Did those mean old wizards lock you in here? Aww, you poor thing.”

“That ‘poor thing’ is the size of a house!” hissed Ron. “We need to get out of here!”

“Good idea,” said Harry. “Hey, Zag! We should leave before Filch comes back.”

Zagreus sighed. “Yeah, you’re right.” He gave the second head one more pat. “Be back later. I promise!”

Head Number One barked and licked Zagreus, covering him in drool and making his hair stick up even more.

Harry cracked open the door to make sure nobody was outside. He quickly gestured for everyone else to follow him outside and away from the giant dog. 

Somehow they managed to make it back to the portrait without getting caught. Harry gasped out the password, and the Fat Lady raised an eyebrow before swinging open.

“What are they doing, keeping something like that in a school?” yelped Ron as the portrait opened. “They must be mental!”

“None of you lot use your eyes, do you?” snapped Hermoine Granger. “Didn’t you see what it was standing on?”

“I was more focused on its heads, not the floor,” Harry said, shivering at the memory.

“Not the floor! It was standing on a trapdoor! It’s guarding something!” Hermoine Granger huffed, her face red. “Now, I’m going to bed before you lot,” she gestured to the four boys at this, “get another brilliant idea to get us killed! Or worse, expelled!”

Then she climbed through the portrait hole and disappeared.

Ron shook his head. “ ‘Or worse, expelled’? She needs to sort out her priorities...”

“I don’t know,” Zagreus admitted, climbing in after the girl. “Personally I find public humiliation worse than death. But maybe I’m just weird.”

“How would you know if you’ve never died?” Ron asked. 

Zagreus just gave Ron a smirk. “Don’t ask questions you aren’t prepared to hear the answers to, Ronald.”

Ron sighed. “I knew it. You’re mental.”

When a note arrived the next morning at breakfast telling Harry to go see Headmaster Dumbledore, he feared the worst.

“Don’t worry,” Zagreus tried to reassure Harry as they walked down the corridors. “If it was about last night, he would have called more of us in.”

“But what else could it be about?” wondered Harry, cleaning his glasses almost obsessively.

“Could be about the Quidditch thing,” Zagreus guessed. “You’re the youngest player in a few decades, right? Maybe he wants to double check and make sure you’re physically fit.”

“In his office? Why not the hospital wing?”

“Oh...that’s a good point.”

The two boys finally stopped in front of a stone gargoyle. “I think this is it...” Harry took a deep breath. “Okay...um...liquorice wands?”

The gargoyle nodded and hopped out of the way, revealing a set of stairs moving upwards. It looked like an escalator, but it must’ve been powered by magic instead of electricity. “Alright then...” Harry took a deep breath and stepped onto the stairs. Moment of truth.

“Hey!” Harry heard Zagreus yelp from behind him. He turned around to see the gargoyle had moved back into place, blocking Zagreus from following Harry.

The gargoyle shrugged. “Sorry, the headmaster said it was a private meeting.”

Harry sighed. He should have known better than to hope he’d have any kind of moral support. “I’ll be okay,” he tried to reassure Zagreus, putting a smile on his face that he knew didn’t reach his eyes.

Zagreus furrowed his brow, but nodded. “Good luck.”

As Harry rode the stairs upwards, he was surprised by how lonely he suddenly felt. He’d been alone with teachers before (mostly when he was blamed for accidental magic) but it had never really felt like this. Not this scary. Not this lonely.

Perhaps, he realized, that was because he’d always been alone. Up until Zagreus had shown up, Harry hadn’t been able to make a single friend. If they weren’t put off by him being the “weird kid”, then Dudley chased them away anyways.

Harry had been so used to being lonely that he didn’t realize how awful it had been.

After a few more turns, Harry stepped off the stairs onto a platform before a large wooden door. In the center was a golden door knocker shaped like a griffon. Harry took a deep breath, then rapped the knocker three times.

The door opened without so much as a creak, and Harry got his first look at the Headmaster’s Office. It certainly looked like the room of a powerful wizard, large and circular, and brightly lit by several large windows. Shelves lined almost all the walls, covered with various books and magical gadgets that spun and made various noises.

Straight across from the door was a large oak desk. Above and behind the desk were two things: the Sorting Hat, sitting on a shelf, and a perch for a bird. 

The perch was currently in use by the most beautiful bird that Harry had ever seen. It was covered in stunning red, orange, and gold plumage, like there was a fire burning inside its feathers. It had an extremely long tail that reminded Harry of a peacock he’d seen at the zoo once.

But this bird wasn’t overly ornate like a peacock. It was stately, powerful. As it looked at him, it suddenly spread its wings, flying over to land on his shoulder. "Whoa!" Harry braced himself to fall over, but the bird was surprisingly light.

"I see Fawkes has taken a liking to you." Harry finally tore his eyes away from the bird to look at the man sitting behind the desk. Sure enough, it was the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. He was dressed in crimson robes today, covered with swirling patterns not unlike the type that Harry had seen on fancy furniture in stores. He was looking down at a letter with his brow furrowed, but as Harry approached the desk he looked up and his face changed to a calmer expression. “Ah, Harry. I see you received my note.” Dumbledore gestured to a plush chair in front of the desk. “Please, take a seat.”

Harry nervously sat. Hopefully letting him sit was a good sign? Most of the teachers in primary school had made him stand while they berated him.

“Lemon drop?” asked Dumbledore, gesturing to a glass jar on his desk.

Harry shook his head. “No thank you, sir.” His stomach was still in knots. He knew there was no way that he’d be able to eat anything. If anything, Dumbledore being gentle with him was only making it worse.

Dumbledore sighed and popped one of the sweets into his mouth. “I apologize for calling you up here so suddenly.” He smiled. “But there’s no need to be worried. You are not in trouble.”

Had it been that obvious? “Oh,” was all Harry could say. “That’s good. But then...why did you call me here? Sir.”

Dumbledore looked down at the letter again. “Tell me, Harry. Have you communicated with your relatives at all since the school year started?”

What a strange question. Harry shook his head. “No sir. They haven’t sent me anything, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“And you have not sent them anything?”

Harry shook his head again. “They...don’t really like magic. Sir. So I didn’t want to bother them with it.”

Dumbledore nodded. “I see.” He was using the same tone as before. Odd.

Fawkes gave a squawk, causing both Harry and Dumbledore to look at him. “Hm, it seems Fawkes has some comments about that,” Dumbledore chuckled.

“What kind of bird is he?” asked Harry. “I’ve never seen one like him before.”

“A phoenix. Wonderful birds. They can carry heavy loads, their tears have healing properties, and they show unwavering loyalty. Though they do have a habit of bursting into flames every decade or so. Very startling if you don’t expect it.”

Fawkes let out another squawk, this one sounding more annoyed.

Dumbledore chucked. “I only speak the truth.” He turned back to Harry, looking more solemn. “In any case, onto business.” He tapped the letter on his desk. “I have an old colleague who lives on the same street as your relatives. You may know her. Ms. Arabella Figg?”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Ms. Figg is a witch?” She didn’t seem very witchy to Harry, other than all the cats, perhaps.

“Unfortunately, she is a Squib: a child born of wizards who has no magic. Because of that, she went to live in the muggle world, where her not having magic would not be a handicap,” Dumbledore sighed, looking sorrowful. “She worked with me during the war against Voldemort, keeping an eye on his followers’ movements in the muggle world. When you were taken to your relatives, I asked her to keep a watch on your house, in case Lord Voldemort’s followers found you.”

Harry wasn’t sure what to say. Ms. Figg knew he had magic? She was supposed to keep him safe? “So what happened?”

Dumbledore nodded. “I just received a letter from her. It seems...your relatives have gone missing.”

“Missing?” Harry echoed. 

“They were last seen about three weeks ago, just after the school year started. At first, it was assumed they went on a last minute vacation, as your cousin’s school does not start until the week after ours. However, they did not return when the school year started.”

“Where did they go?” asked Harry.

“That is the question,” sighed Dumbledore. “They found their car, but it appears that your aunt, uncle, and cousin have vanished into thin air.”

“Like magic,” Harry muttered.

Dumbledore sighed. “Indeed. The police, unfortunately, have no leads. That is why I asked if you communicated with them at all. Did they give any indication, when you last saw them, of going anywhere?”

Harry shook his head. “No sir. I didn’t hear of any plans.”

There was silence as Dumbledore and Harry stared at each other. Finally, Dumbledore sighed. “I see. I hoped perhaps...but no. Of course not.”

“So...what happens now?” asked Harry.

“That is to be determined.” Dumbledore stood and looked out the window onto the grounds. “Your parents did leave a will naming several possible guardians who could care for you in case of their death. However, most of those guardians, unfortunately, died in the war...or are otherwise indisposed.”

“What do you mean, ‘otherwise indisposed’?”

Dumbledore shook his head. “It is not fit for young ears to hear. Not now. I have burdened you enough already...” He muttered this almost to himself. Eventually, he turned back around. “You may go now, Harry. I will let you know of any updates.”

Harry nodded. “I see. Thank you for telling me, sir.”

As he turned to leave, he felt Fawkes take off from his shoulder and chirp one more time before closing the door behind him.

Dumbledore watched the boy go with a heavy heart. He sighed and sank into his seat. “That’s twice now that his family has been taken from him,” he whispered to Fawkes.

How had this happened? The blood wards around Privet Drive were the strongest magic he could muster.

Death Eaters were not the type to be sneaky. They fed on terror and destruction. They left bodies in plain sight, with the Dark Mark hanging in the sky above their work.

True, some people had disappeared during the last war, but they were usually found later...or at least most of their body was.

Dumbledore looked back at the letter. After Dudley Dursely had been absent from Smeltings School on the first day, the head teacher had called the Dursley home to report him missing. However, he’d received no answer and went to the neighborhood to investigate. That was when he had run into Ms. Figg, who had just recovered from a broken ankle and had gone to investigate the house as well.

They had tried the door, which had been unlocked, and had opened it to find the front hallway in shambles, with almost everything knocked over and destroyed. They had immediately called the police, who, upon investigating the house, had turned up no fingerprints or anything suspicious. There was an odd detail they had noticed: the cupboard under the stairs had a worn mattress, pillow, and blanket in it, as if someone had been sleeping there. However, the police brushed it off since the bed didn’t look recently used. Besides, who wouldn’t notice someone sleeping under their stairs?

There had been no signs of a break in other then the front door being unlocked, and due to Ms. Figg touching the doorknob, any fingerprints were too smudged to be identified. It was only the first floor that had been turned upside down. The second floor was fine. The car was not in the driveway, and was found several miles away, having crashed into a ditch on a back country road. 

The police connected the car’s description and license plate number with reports from September the first, which reported extremely reckless driving and speeding, which caused several accidents. Luckily nobody was seriously hurt, but the police lost time due to the accidents causing a traffic jam and hadn’t been able to catch the driver.

Dumbledore put down the paper. The reckless driver was likely Vernon Dursley. And it had been on September the first. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

Harry likely only escaped being captured or killed by the skin of his teeth...Merlin preserve us...

How had this happened? Dumbledore had believed that hiding Harry in the muggle world would protect him. Had the Death Eaters been tipped off? By who? Why had none of the neighbors reported the Dursleys missing?

And how did they get through the blood wards?

Dumbledore groaned and laid his head on his desk. “This is a nightmare...I have to check the blood wards, and then I’m going to have to get the Potters’ will...which will mean dealing with the Ministry...again.”

Dumbledore could’ve swore the sound Fawkes made was a mocking laugh.

Zagreus was still waiting when Harry stepped back out from behind the gargoyle. “So? Did it go well?”

Harry shrugged. “My aunt, uncle, and cousin seem to have disappeared mysteriously.” He fixed Zagreus with a look. “Do I want to know?”

Zagreus thought for a minute, then shook his head. “Probably not. Come on, maybe we can still get to Transfiguration on time.”

After the failed midnight duel, Zagreus went back to the third floor corridor every other night to check on the dog, or “Fluffy” as the name on the collar the middle head wore proudly proclaimed.

“Why would you even do that?” groaned Ron after he overheard Zagreus talking to Harry about it.

“We have one at home, he’s much bigger,” Zagreus explained. “Don’t worry, I’m very familiar with dogs.”

“What...what are you trying to do?” asked Neville. “Are you going to train it to a...attack Snape?”

The three other boys snorted. “Nah, I want to see if he’ll let me down the trapdoor,” Zagreus said. “If I can get him to trust me, maybe he’ll move.”

“But why?” asked Neville.

Harry quickly explained to Neville about the bag Hagrid had taken from Gringotts. “Whatever he took from that vault, that’s what the dog’s guarding.”

“And I felt some powerful magic coming off it,” said Zagreus. “I’m dying to know what it is! Aren’t you?”

Neville winced. “Uh...not really?”

Despite Neville’s reservations, he never stopped Zagreus from leaving each night to keep Fluffy company. Truth be told, Zagreus had no idea if he could get the dog to totally trust him. Mostly, he just felt bad that Fluffy was all cooped up.

“They should let you out for some fresh air once in a while,” Zagreus sighed, scratching Head Beta, the one with the collar.

Suddenly, he heard someone speaking outside the door. Two someones, as a matter of fact. “Darkness!” Zagreus hissed, disappearing. Fluffy tilted two of his heads in confusion as Zagreus vanished.

The door slowly creaked open. It was so slight, Zagreus couldn’t see who was behind it. As suddenly as it opened, someone gasped and the door closed sharply.

“A three headed dog!” said a voice. “So it’s true!”

Wait...that was Professor Quirrell’s voice. But something was off. Zagreus couldn’t place it, but he sounded different.

“An insignificant obstacle,” said another voice, raspy and cold. “You will not fail me again.”

“Of course not, Master!” Quirrell replied quickly. “No, I will make it past...there must be some key to defeating it...”

Zagreus frowned. Why would Quirrell...he’s a teacher. Shouldn’t he have some sort of override for this place? Unless what’s down there is really that dangerous and powerful...

What does he want it for?

“We run low on time, Quirrell,” said the strange voice again. “Unicorn blood will not sustain me forever...”

The two began talking quieter as they moved away from the door and out of earshot.

Fluffy growled, and Zagreus reappeared to pat his head. “Don’t worry, boy. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

It was only after he had made it back to Gryffindor tower that Zagreus realized why Quirrell’s voice had sounded so strange: he hadn’t stuttered once. 

Chapter Text

“You’re not serious? Quirrell?” asked Ron as the group of boys made their way to Potions the next day. “Have you seen the guy? He looks like he’d have a heart attack at the mere thought of that dog!”

“I heard his voice,” Zagreus pointed out. “And besides, it didn’t seem like he was working alone. Maybe he’s braver with someone to help him.”

“That’s possible,” Harry admitted. “But why? What’s down there that he’s trying to get?”

“Maybe...maybe something to protect him from that vampire?” asked Neville, holding the door for the others to go into the classroom. “He’s already scared enough to carry garlic on him...”

“He’s carrying garlic on him?” asked Zagreus.

“That’s what everyone says...apparently he smells bad even outside the classroom...”

The group took their seats, Neville pairing up with Zagreus and Ron pairing up with Harry. Hermoine Granger was paired with Seamus Finnegan. She looked over at Zagreus nervously, probably due to the explosion Seamus and Neville had caused last week. Zagreus gave her a reassuring thumbs up.

As soon as everyone was seated, the door at the back slammed open and in stomped Snape. There was none of the usual grace as there had been in the first class, where he seemed to glide across the floor. He seemed heavier, slopper. His greasy hair was flyaway, not smooth as it had been.

“Woah,” whispered Ron. “What happened to him?” Hermoine shushed him.

Snape scowled at everyone, flicking his wand at a piece of chalk, which quickly wrote on the blackboard. “Today, you will be brewing the Wiggenweld potion. It is a potion which can be used to heal minor injuries or reverse the effects of a sleeping draught. Instructions are on the board. Begin.”

Well, that was different. Zagreus flipped through the textbook until he found the recipe and frowned. “This seems more complicated than what we made last week.”

He supposed that a jump in curriculum wouldn’t be too out of place. After all, they hadn’t had class for the past three weeks. It wasn’t that it was canceled, it was just that Snape hadn’t shown up.

“Shouldn’t we go get someone?” Hermoine had asked during the second week. “This is incredibly strange.”

“No way!” Ron had argued. “Any break from that git is a good thing, far as I’m concerned.”

It seemed that break was finally over, but Snape looked even less well rested than usual. How strange.

Zagreus was distracted from his thoughts by a yelp from Neville. Zagreus turned to see that he’d pricked himself with one of the lionfish spines they were supposed to be grinding. “Here, let me do those.”

So friendly, so normal. Not menacing at all if one didn’t know. How had this boy ended up in Gryffindor?

Snape narrowed his eyes as the Greek boy took the spines from Longbottom and crushed them himself. So it wasn’t just Potter, he was also building a friendship with the other prophecy candidate. Why? Perhaps he believed that being a possible subject of a prophecy would make him special?

It was a fools errand, in any case. Severus had seen enough to know the boy was utterly hopeless from the first class. No wonder the Dark Lord had gone after the Potters. he must have known, somehow, that this boy would be useless.

Snape, of course, never considered that perhaps the first class had been a fluke, or that Neville could be good at other things outside of his class. But he wasn’t biased, not at all.

Weasley was included in their little group, as well. Perhaps due to him following Potter around. A follower, much like Pettigrew had been for the Mauraders. Or perhaps that was why he was befriending Longbottom. Two grateful lackeys under his thumb.

Potter, Longbottom, Weasley...and perhaps Granger. He saw the Greek boy shooting her encouraging smiles whenever she averted disaster with Finnigan as her partner. Snape had to grudgingly admit, that was no small feat. So she would be the Lupin, the smart one of the group.

Toukhthon was building a little band of followers. But for what? He had blackmail on Snape, he knew about the prophecy. He said he wanted Potter to defeat the Dark Lord when he inevitably returned.

Why? What did he get out of it? Was he trying to replace the Dark Lord? But why come to Britain? Why not do it back in Greece?

Snape had looked through registers of wizarding names, but they only included families in the Isles, and there were no Toukhthons registered. No prominent Toukhthons in the history books, either.

Was the boy Muggleborn? Was that why he had not been placed in Slytherin?

And why the hell did he call Snape ‘mortal’?

These questions had been keeping Snape up at night. He’d barely been able to face his regular classes, and there was no way he could face this one until he had a plan.

For now, he had to watch. And be careful, ever so careful. Who knew what other secrets the boy was hiding?

Neville yelped as the potion spat out a bit of liquid that singed his arm. “Careful,” warned Zagreus. “Are you alright? You look ill.”

“S....Snape’s been glaring at me all class...I can’t concentrate,” whispered Neville.

Zagreus looked up at the front of the room, where the black haired man sitting at his desk was giving him the evil eye. “I don’t think it’s you. I think he’s still mad at me.”

“You think?” Neville’s eyes widened. “After a month? I guess he can really hold a grudge...”

“No kidding,” sighed Zagreus. “Well, I can take it. As long as he doesn’t go after Harry, I’m fine.”

“But what if he poisons you?”

Zagreus snorted. “Assuming it actually works? He’ll have to deal with my family. There’s a lot of infighting, but when it comes down to it, everyone looks out for each other.”

His family...who was the Greek boy’s family? They had to be powerful somehow.

How dare he casually threaten Snape with them? How dare he not quiver in fear? Snape pounded the desk, tipping over an ink container and making several students yelp. “Time’s up! Bottle your potions and bring them forwards.”

...at least the potion Toukhthon and Longbottom had made was only of middling quality. If the Greek boy had been good at potions as well, that would’ve just added insult to injury.

The next Monday, about a week after the duel, a large package that had to be carried by six owls was carried into the Great Hall and towards the Gryffindor table. Harry’s eyes became the size of saucers when it landed in front of him. Harry quickly opened the note that came with it and his eyes got even bigger somehow. He passed the note to Ron, who read it and gasped before passing it to Zagreus.

Zagreus read: 

DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE.

It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your first training session.

Professor McGonagall

“Woah...” whispered Zagreus.

“Come on, let’s go back to the dorm to open it!” Harry said, grabbing the package and leaving the hall. Ron and Zagreus followed.

Sadly, they wouldn’t get the chance to open it just then because they ran into Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy just outside.

Malfoy grabbed the package away from Harry and felt it. “...that’s a broomstick, Potter. You’re in for it this time. First years aren’t allowed one.”

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to touch other people’s things?” snarked Zagreus, grabbing the package back.

“And it’s not just any broomstick, either!” Ron said, grinning. “It’s a Nimbus Two-Thousand! What’ve you got at home, Malfoy? A Comet Two-Sixty?” Ron turned back to the two others and explained. “Comets are flashy, but they’re not in the same league as the Nimbus at all.”

“What would you know about brooms, Weasley?” Malfoy spat. “You couldn’t afford half the handle! I bet you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig!”

Ron’s face went red, but before he could answer, Professor Flitwick showed up to save the day. "Not arguing, I hope, boys?" he asked in his high pitched voice.

"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," said Malfoy quickly, pointing accusingly at Harry.

"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Harry. "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?"

"A Nimbus Two Thousand, sit," said Harry, who looked like he was fighting back laughter. “And it’s really thanks to Malfoy here that I’ve got it.”

The three boys could barely hold back their laughter until Malfoy was out of earshot. “Did you see his face?” gasped Zagreus.

“I thought steam was going to start coming out his ears like in the comics!” laughed Ron.

“I mean, it’s true!” Harry explained. “If he hadn’t stolen Neville’s Rememberall, then I wouldn’t have gotten on the team.”

"So I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking rules?" Hermoine came angrily up behind them, glaring at the package in Harry’s hand.

“I thought you weren’t speaking to us,” Harry asked.

“Plus, Malfoy started it,” Zagreus pointed out. “You should really be yelling at him.”

Hermoine marched off with her nose in the air as Zagreus sighed. He did genuinely want to hang out with Hermoine, but it was hard when she was butting heads with his friends.

The days continued to fly by. Zagreus returned to the third floor corridor, but while Fluffy continued to warm up to him, he would not move from atop the trap door. Maybe if Zagreus could find some offal...

One day, Zagreus woke up to strange smells wafting through the hallways. Harry explained that the smells were baking pumpkin, and that today, the last day of October, was a holiday called Halloween where people dressed up in costumes, got candy, and did spooky things.

“It’s also Samhain,” explained Ron. “Basically it's supposed to be the day when the border between the living and dead is thinnest, so ghosts and other creepies are super active.”

Wonder if Mel will show up then , thought Zagreus idly.

The last class of the day was Charms, and everyone became very excited when Professor Flitwick announced they were going to be learning to levitate objects. Everyone but Zagreus that is.

“This is not my element,” he whispered to Harry as they paired up. “This is the opposite of my element. I’ll be lucky if Uncle Zeus doesn’t strike me down for my hubris.”

Harry patted Zagreus’ hand. “I’m sure he’ll understand.”

Zagreus snorted. Uncle Zeus, understanding? Yeah right.

Ron didn’t look happy either, but that was probably because he was paired up with Hermoine, who looked equally as unhappy. 

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" called Professor Flitwick. "Swish and flick! Remember, swish and flick!”

Everyone picked up their wands and began. “Wingardium Leviosa,” they chanted. “Wingardium Leviosa!”

None of the feathers moved an inch. Out of the corner of his eye, Zagreus saw Seamus Finnigan, who was paired with Neville, prodding his feather with his wand.

Meanwhile, Ron was swinging his arms in wide, circular motions like he was trying to conduct an orchestra. “WINGARDIUM LEVIOOOOSA!” he shouted dramatically.

“Stop, stop, stop!” Hermione snapped. “You’re saying it wrong! It's Wingaaardium Leviosa, make the 'gar' nice and long."

"You do it, then, if you're so clever," Ron snarled, still waving his arms around.

Hermoine rolled her eyes and did the swish-flick motion. “Wingardium Leviosa!”

Slowly, her feather rose off the desk, coming to a stop about four feet above everyone’s heads. “Oh well done!” cheered Professor Flitwick. “See here, everyone! Ms. Granger’s done it!”

Ron looked absolutely murderous at being shown up, but Hermoine’s success seemed to invigorate the rest of the students. “Wingardium Leviosa!” shouted Seamus, smacking the feather with his wand.

BOOM!

Neville leaned away from a now ash-faced Seamus, raising his hand shakily. “I...I think we need a new feather, Professor...”

Ron’s mood wasn’t any better by the time class ended, stomping out of the classroom. “ ‘Make the gar nice and long’,” he mimicked in a high pitched voice. “She’s a nightmare, honestly!”

It was just then that Hermoine pushed past them. It was quick, but Zagreus caught a glimpse of her face. It was red, and there were tears in her eyes.

Apparently Harry noticed too. “I think she heard you,” he told Ron.

“So?” asked Ron, though he did look uncomfortable. “Maybe she’s realized why she doesn't have friends...”

“Ron!” snapped Zagreus, shocked. He looked where Hermoine had run off to, but she was lost in the crowd of students.

He wanted to go after her...but he’d promised to protect Harry. Would Harry come with him? But Harry wouldn’t abandon Ron...

Zagreus glanced back at Harry. Harry looked in the same direction Zagreus had, then gave him a good natured grin and made a shooing motion with his hand. 

Zagreus smiled at Harry gratefully and went after Hermoine.

Hopefully nothing went wrong while he was gone.

Chapter Text

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

These words repeated in a loop in Hermoine’s head as she pushed past students, looking for somewhere...anywhere, private.

She couldn’t cry here. She couldn’t! Crying always made things worse...

Finally she spotted her haven: a bathroom. She ran inside, not bothering to check if it was empty, and shut herself in one of the stalls.

As soon as the lock clicked, Hermoine fell to her knees and let the tears flow, gasping sobs escaping her throat.

Professor McGonagall had painted Hogwarts as a place of magic and wonder. But really, it was a school like any other.

She’d been an idiot to believe it would be any different here.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there before the door opened again. Hermoine quickly tried to muffle her sobs. If someone caught her crying in here...

“Hey!” she heard a shout. “You can’t go in there!”

There was no reply to the shout as the door swung shut again. There was silence for a bit, then... “Hermoine? Are you in here?”

“Z...zagreus?” Hermoine gasped out. “You...you can’t be...this is the girls’ restroom!”

“So everyone’s been telling me.” Hermoine heard footsteps coming towards the stall she was in. “I’m not going to let a sign on the door stop me from checking on someone. I’d ask if you’re alright, but judging by how quickly you ran away, I think I already know the answer.”

“Well, if you know, you can leave!” Hermione snapped back. “I’d rather be alone with my humiliation, thank you very much.”

“Humili...Hermoine, you were literally the only person in class able to lift that feather, how is that humiliating?”

“Because no one else could, and now they hate me!”

Zagreus was quiet. “...look, Ron didn’t mean what he said. He was just frustrated-”

“Oh, bollocks!” Hermoine didn’t even care about the swearing. “That doesn’t make it any better! ‘They’re just jealous, dear! They just want to be as smart as you!’ ‘They’re angry because they know you don’t have to put in the effort they do.’” Hermione let out a dry laugh. “Like I care why they do it! The reason doesn’t make a difference when they pull my hair, or whisper about me, or call me beaver face, or throw my books in the mud or tear up my homework or tell the new kids to stay away because I’m a weird swot or...or...or...”

Her mouth was dry and her face was wet. Her head was pounding and she felt nauseous. Had she ever cried so much before?

“...it’s not just Ron, then,” Zagreus finally said. “I think I understand. You’ve had to put up with this for a while, right?”

“I...I thought it would be different here. That everyone would try as hard as me...or at least that I wouldn’t be looked down upon for trying. And...Professor McGonagall told me that muggleborns like me can be looked down upon. So I have to be better or...”

“Oh Hermoine...”

“Even the girls in my dorm hate me...just because I don’t want to talk about who likes who or have my hair done...I don’t have any friends here....Ronald was right...”

There was silence between the two for a bit. 

“I’ll be your friend,” Zagreus said finally. “And Harry will too, I think. Ron...Ron needs some time...but...” Zagreus took a deep breath. “You’re not alone here, okay? I promise.”

Hermoine leaned her head against the door and sniffled. “Do you mean that?”

“Yes. I do.”

The sick feeling that had been in Ron’s stomach since Charms more or less vanished when he saw the Halloween themed Great Hall. Which was good, because his siblings had all regaled him with tales of how great the feasts at Hogwarts were, especially the Halloween/Samhain and Christmas/Yule ones.

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins flicker. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, just as it had at the start-of-term banquet. Baked potatoes, apple cabbage soup, apple cider, pumpkin juice, roasted pumpkin seeds, pumpkin pie...well, a lot of pumpkin stuff.

The overwhelming decor made it easy to put the fact neither Zagreus nor Hermoine had returned out of his mind.

“What’s with the face paint?” Harry asked Ron. He was looking over towards the twins, who had black streaks on their noses and under their eyes. 

“Old Samhain tradition,” explained Ron, filling his plate. “Teenagers sometimes paint their faces with black paint or wear black masks for protection from spirits and such. Then they go door to door and threaten to do tricks and mischief if they’re not welcomed.”

Harry nodded in understanding. “So a very literal version of ‘trick or treat’.” Then he frowned. “Wait, but the twins always do mischief.”

Ron snorted. “You think that’s gonna stop them?”

Harry looked over at Fred and George and their identical Cheshire Cat grins. “Fair enough.”

Ron looked over at his friend and was glad to see Harry filling his plate. He’d never met a kid who was skinnier than himself before, especially one whose ribs were clearly visible from across the room when he changed clothes. He knew his mum would be sitting Harry down and piling his plate high with soup and bread to fatten him up.

Thinking about his mum made him feel a pang of homesickness. Their family used Samhain as a time to remember the dead. Mum would pull out pictures of Fabien and Gideon, her older twin brothers who had died in the war, and get very weepy. It was somewhat awkward to watch, especially when Fred and George were home and she would sob about how much they resembled their uncles. 

But all the same, Ron missed hearing stories about the Weasley ancestors, like Matilda Weasely, who was the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts during the 1890s, and Hector Weasely, a master duellist.

Ron was shaken out of his thoughts by the Great Hall doors banging open and Professor Quirrel sprinted in, robes flapping behind him. “Troll!” he shrieked. “Troll in the dungeons! Troll in the dungeons!”

There was a pause as everyone took in this information. “Thought you ought to know,” whimpered Quirrel, before fainting.

There was silence for a moment. Then all hell broke loose. Students were screaming, running around and clinging to each other. Ron felt something grab him around the middle and looked down to see a shivering Neville hugging him. “Neville! Get off!”

There was a loud bang from the Head Table, and everyone’s heads swiveled to see the Headmaster standing up with his wand in the air. His face was uncharacteristically serious. “Enough!” he snapped, his voice ringing through the hall. "Prefects, lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Percy immediately hopped up as if he’d been waiting for this exact situation all his life. "Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a prefect!”

“Why does he keep saying that?” asked Neville as Ron finally escaped the grasp of the boy. “I mean, I’m forgetful, but I know who our prefects are.”

Before Ron could marvel at Neville’s uncharacteristic (and possibly unintentional) display of snark, he felt someone grab his arm. He turned to see Harry with a panicked look on his face. “Ron, wait!”

“What?” asked Ron.

“Hermoine and Zag! They don’t know about the troll! I mean Zag can probably handle himself but Hermoine...”

Ron felt the blood leave his face. His mind suddenly flipped back to Bill reciting troll facts from his Defense Class. How they were immune to most spells. How they were slow but unstoppable, like glaciers. 

How when they hit, it usually made such a mess of a body that it couldn’t be identified.

He thought about Hermoine Granger, alone in the bathroom. He pictured her cowering away from the troll as Zagreus tried, in vain, to shield her...

And it would be all his fault.

“Oh, fine!” he said finally, trying to sound nonchalant. “But if Percy catches us, I’m blaming you!”

“...and to this day, I cannot convince him that Dio and I aren’t the same person!”

Hermoine giggled as Zagreus finished his story. “Serves you right, fooling the poor man like that!” There was no hint of rebuke in her tone though.

The two students were sitting in the stall of the girls’ bathroom with the door open. After Hermoine had opened the door, Zagreus had tried to distract her from her fears of teasing by telling her silly stories of his childhood (edited, of course, to remove mentions of immortality). It seemed to have worked, since she’d stopped crying, though her eyes were still red.

“So he’s never seen you two in the same room? Ever?”

Zagreus shook his head, grinning. “Nope! We’ve had parties at the house before, but usually Dio is passed out in the lounge from drinking, so he’s not around long.”

Hermione frowned. “That seems unhealthy...”

Zagreus shrugged. “Ah, don’t worry. Dio has the constitution of a god.” Literally. Hermoine giggled again. “Are you feeling better?”

Hermoine nodded. “Yes, a bit.” She stood up shakily. “Ugh, I don’t really want to go to the feast though...everyone will notice me coming in late.”

“I doubt it,” Zagreus reassured her. “They’ll probably be too focused on the food. Come on.”

The two started making their way towards the door before Zagreus suddenly stopped and sniffed. “Ugh, do you smell that?”

Hermoine pinched her nose. “Ew...I do...wait, what’s that thumping sound?”

Zagreus listened. Sure enough, from behind the door came the sound of what sounded like something very large walking. And it was getting louder.

Zagreus spun around. “Hermoine, get-!”

He wasn’t able to finish the sentence before the door was thrown open with a loud crash. 

At first, Zagreus thought the being behind the door was some kind of undersized cyclops. But that couldn’t be it, the creature had two eyes. It was slate gray, with legs as thick as the width of a river. It looked around dumbly until its eyes fixed on Zagreus and it hefted its club.

Zagreus pushed Hermoine behind him and summoned Stygius. “Hermoine, run,” he commanded.

“Is that a troll?” yelped Hermoine. “Wait, where did you pull that sword from?”

“Not now!”

The troll raised its club and Zagreus prepared to dodge.

There was a dull metallic thud as something bounced off the troll. “Oi! Pea brain! Over here!”

“Ron???”

Sure enough, Ron, Harry, and Neville were all standing by the entrance to the bathroom, shaking as they pointed their wands at the troll.

As the troll rounded on the boys, Harry ducked behind the troll and ran past Zagreus to grab Hermoine’s arm. “Come on, we have to go!”

Hermoine didn’t respond. She was frozen with terror.

“What are you three doing here?” demanded Zagreus.

“Quirrel ran in saying there was a troll running around!” Harry explained as Neville took a running leap to grab the troll around the neck. The troll roared in fury as Neville’s wand got stuck up its nostril since the boy was still holding it. “We realized neither of you knew and came to warn-” Harry yelped and ducked as the troll swung wildly, hitting the ceiling and making the whole room shake.

“While I appreciate it, I can handle a troll!” Zagreus answered.

“Yeah, we mostly came because Hermoine was here too!”

The troll raised its club to smash Harry and Zagreus prepared to pull or push the boy out of the way but-

“Wingardium Leviosa!”

The troll lost its grip on its club as it floated out of its hand. Ron was breathing heavily, pointing his wand at the club.

The troll looked at its empty hand, apparently confused as to where the club had disappeared to. Finally, it figured out to look upwards to see the club hovering above its head.

That was when Ron’s concentration broke. The club fell and smacked the troll right on the skull with a loud thunk.

The troll’s eyes rolled back in its head as it swayed in place. Then it slowly tipped forwards, sending Zagreus, Hermoine, and Harry sprinting to get out of the way and not be squished.

The troll fell flat on its face and laid still.

As soon as the troll was on the ground, Zagreus ran up to the troll and raised his sword.

“What are you-” Neville didn’t get any more words out before he was splashed with the troll’s blood. “Zag! What was that for?”

Zagreus shrugged as he vanished Stygius, having nearly cut through the troll’s thick neck in one slice. “I didn’t want it to get back up.”

Ron wrinkled his nose as Neville gingerly pulled his wand out of the troll’s nostril. “I guess. I mean it was trying to kill us.” He eyed Neville’s wand. “Ugh...troll bogies.”

Hermoine shakily turned to Ron. “...Wengardium Leviosa?” she asked.”

Ron blushed. “It uh...it was the first spell that came to mind.”

Ron opened his mouth to say something else, but before he could, there were loud footsteps outside the door. A few seconds later, Professor McGonagall came bursting into the room, wand held in a combative position. Just behind her was Snape, and behind him was Quirrell.

The three teachers stared down at the troll. As Snape bent over to examine it, Quirrel sank to the floor, holding onto one of the sinks for balance.

McGonagal rounded on the students, her face white. “What,” she hissed, “were you thinking? Why are you not back in the dormitories? You’re lucky you weren’t killed!”

“They were looking for me, Professor.” Hermoine stepped out of the shadows. “I...I got upset after Charms class. And I came in here to...to cry. Zagreus followed me to try and cheer me up. And then...I guess Harry, Ron, and Neville noticed we weren’t in the Great Hall so we didn’t know about the troll...” Hermione gulped. “If they hadn’t come, I probably would have died.”

Snape fixed the children with a look as if he didn’t quite believe them. McGonagall stared at the group of five. Then she sighed. “In that case...five points to each of you. For defending another student and for sheer dumb luck. Not many first years could have taken on a full grown mountain troll and lived, I will say. Now, if none of you are hurt...your fellow students are finishing the rest of the feast in their dorms.”

The five rushed back to Gryffindor tower before McGonagall could change her mind. “I really think we should’ve gotten more then twenty five points,” muttered Ron.

“Thirty,” pointed out Harry. “If you count Hermoine.”

Hermoine shook her head. “I doubt it. I didn’t do much other than stand there and scream...I’m a bit embarrassed actually.”

Zagreus patted her on the back as they walked up to the portrait door. “It’s only natural when you’re faced with such a giant monster, especially for the first time. Don’t worry about it.” 

As Hermione turned to give the password, Ron stopped her. “Wait.” Hermione turned back around, confused. “Look, I...I'm sorry. About what I said. I was just frustrated that I couldn't get the spell to work, and you managed it on the first try...I took out my frustration on you and you got put in danger because of it. You could’ve died because I was being a prat. I'm sorry.”

Hermoine looked at him for a moment, then sighed. “I...accept your apology. But...knowing the reason doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.”

Ron bowed his head. “I know. I...can’t really do much other than apologize. And try to start over. If you’re okay with that.”

Hermoine looked uncertain, but she steeled herself and put out a hand. “I’m Hermoine Granger. Who are you?”

Ron smiled and shook Hermoine’s hand. “I’m Ron Weasley. Nice to meet you.”

“Aw!” Zagreus cooed as he pulled the two into a hug. “You two are adorable!”

“Zag!” groaned Ron. “Get off!”

Harry laughed. “Pig Snout,” he told the portrait. They all climbed in, hearing the rousing cheers of their housemates as they did.

Chapter Text

“So the troll is officially dead?” asked Dumbledore, steepling his fingers. He, McGonagall, Snape, and Quirell were in his office.

“That is correct,” said Snape. “The neck of the troll was almost completely sliced open.

“W-w-what c-c-could have d-d-done that?” asked Quirrel, twitching even more than normal. “A t-t-troll’s s-s-skin s-should...”

“Perhaps one of the students cast a Cutting Charm?” wondered Minerva. “I don’t know if that would be enough to break the skin of a troll, though...”

“Perhaps it is better not to question it,” sighed the headmaster. “We should just thank our lucky stars that no one was hurt.” Dumbledore turned to Minerva. “Speaking of which, how are those five students faring?”

“They’re doing alright, as far as I could tell,” said Minerva. “Shaken, of course, but none of them seem traumatized or anything of the sort.”

“Of course not,” Snape grumbled. “They got what they wanted: glory. Why should they be afraid?”

“Severus!” snapped Minerva. “Must you always assume the worst of students?”

“In any case,” Dumbeldore interrupted before they could start arguing, “this brings us to the other question of how the troll got in.” He turned to Quirrell. “Quirinius, you were the first to discover the troll, correct?”

Quirrell nodded quickly. “T-that’s r-r-right. I-I-I...I saw it on the floor above the potions classroom.”

“What were you doing down there?” questioned Severus, giving Quirrell the side eye. “Everyone else was at the feast.”

“I h-had to u-use the bathroom. But the one near the G-great H-hall was o-o-occupied.”

“A troll shouldn’t have been able to get that close without us noticing it,” reflected Minerva. “I mean, they’re not exactly quiet.”

Dumbledore nodded. “That’s why I believe someone let it in on purpose?”

The three teachers in front of him all went pale. “Who?” asked Minerva. “And why? As a prank? The twins would never-”

Dumbledore shook his head. “No, not as a mere prank. I believe they let the troll in as a distraction to accomplish their real motivation.”

“To steal the stone,” said Snape. “I thought the same thing.” He winced. “Un...fortuently, there was no one else there, and the dog focused on me.”

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you got out unscathed.”

“Not...completely.” Minerva suddenly realized Snape was heavily favoring his right leg.

“You should have Poppy look at that immediately,” said Dumbeldore. “Quirinius, would you help Severus to the hospital wing?”

Quirinius nodded furtively. “O-of course! C-come along, Severus. L-l-lean on me...”

Snape rolled his eyes but let Quirrell lead him out of the room. Minerva made to follow them but... “Hold on, Minerva. A moment?”

Minerva stopped, letting the door close and leaving her and Dumbledore alone in the office. “Yes, Headmaster?”

Dumbledore paused for a few seconds, looking at the door. “...you need to keep an eye on Quirinius,” he finally said.

Minerva’s eyes widened. “You...suspect him, Headmaster? Quirrell of all people?” Soft-spoken, polite Quirrell? “Why would he...”

Dumbledore spread his hands and shook his head. “I do not know. But you’ve surely seen his change of behavior after coming back this year.”

MInerva looked down. “Well...yes, but...” She sighed. It made sense. Not only had Quirrell undergone a rapid change of behavior, but he was also the newest teacher overall, having joined two years after Severus. He didn’t have the comradery of the teachers who had been at the school for a decade or more. “But why? Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know,” Dumbledore admitted. “I believe something must have happened on his sabbatical. Something that may have shifted his entire worldview. Until we figure out what that was...”

Minerva sighed. “I understand. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Dumbledore nodded, then looked down at the parchments on his desk, taking a quill and starting to write something.

Taking this as a sign of dismissal, Minerva left the Headmaster’s office. She headed back down the moving stairs and walked to her own office.

Once she shut the door behind her, Minerva unlocked a drawer in her desk, pulling out two shot glasses and a large bottle of firewhiskey. “What a night...” she muttered.

As Minerva started to open the firewhiskey, though, there was a knock at the door. Minerva hurriedly put everything back in the drawer. What if it was a student? A student couldn’t see her drinking!

But it wasn’t a student. Instead, Minerva opened her door to see the nervous-looking face of the hospital matron. “Poppy! This is a surprise!” 

Then Minerva realized that there was someone else standing behind Poppy. A man, as tall and broad as Hagrid, with curly red hair and a large belly. He carried a large staff, the kind that Minerva had only seen illustrated in history books (wizards didn’t use staffs anymore, at least in Western Europe. Wands were much more portable and easier to conceal) and he wore a green woolen cloak that hid the top half of his face.

How Minerva had missed this man at first she could not fathom. “...and may I ask your name?” she asked the tall man, trying not to nervously finger her wand.

The man gave her a toothy grin. “I’m her grandfather. Just call me Daire.”

Daire...Minerva had heard that name before, but she couldn’t figure out where. Poppy had never mentioned her family much. All Minerva had heard was that she’d more or less cut off contact with them after the death of her brother. Why was her family here now?

“Do either of you want anything?” Minerva asked instead. “I could call one of the house elves...or I have some firewhiskey.”

“I’ll take some, thank you,” said Daire. “You should have some too. You’ll need it for what we’re about to tell you.”

McGonagall retrieved the firewhiskey and shot glasses, pouring one for her two guests and then herself. “So, what’s the bad news?”

Daire sighed, swirling the firewhiskey in the shot glass. “...what do you know about the relationships between godly pantheons?”

Minerva nearly choked on her drink in surprise. Where did that question come from? “...not much. I know the Greek gods...the Theoi sort of took over a lot of pantheon worship spots when the Roman Empire expanded. I don’t suppose that would make them very popular...but nothing else besides that.”

“That’s fair,” Daire nodded. “Most mortals barely even know that.” Minerva narrowed her eyes at his voice of words. “And you’re right. But there were places the Roman Empire couldn’t reach. Specifically, Scotland.” 

Poppy smiled wryly. “They ended up giving up and just building a wall to keep the ‘barbarians’ out.”

“Because of that, Scotland is firmly the territory of the Tuatha De Danann,” Daire explained. “As opposed to England, which is shared territory. The Theoi, until recently, have respected that boundary.”

“Until recently? What changed?”

Daire looked over at Poppy, who set her glass down. “When I was healing Zagreus Toukhthon after his flying accident. I sensed something. Godly blood. Strong Theoi godly blood, with ties to the earth and the dead.”

McGonagall’s eyes widened. “Wait, you can sense...never mind. So, he’s a child of...what, one of the Theoi gods?”

“The child of their king of the dead, specifically,” explained Daire. From under his cloak, he took out a book and opened it to a bookmarked page.

Minerva looked at the page’s illustration, which showed a black haired young man with spiky hair and a laurel crown. One of his eyes was red, not green, but otherwise he looked like he could be Zagreus’ older brother.

The caption under the illustration read: “Zagreus, Prince of the Underworld, God of Blood. Son of Hades and Persephone.”

“But that’s....” Before she finished, Minerva thought back to how Zagreus had suddenly shown up on the student roll with little warning, Albus only telling her and the other professors about the transfer student a week before the term started. She thought about how Snape had disappeared for two weeks after his detention with Zagreus. She thought about the troll on the floor of the bathroom, head nearly separated from its body...

Minerva sighed, took off her glasses, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “No, that actually would explain a few things.” She looked back at Daire. “What should I do?”

“He’s in your House, correct? Just keep an eye on him for now. Make a note of anything strange he does, and report to Air...sorry, Poppy. She’ll get the messages to us.”

An idea suddenly popped into Minerva’s head. “I wonder...could he be here because of You-Know-Who?”

Daire scratched his beard thoughtfully. “Why would the Theoi care about a dark mage all the way in Britain?”

“Well...” Minerva took a breath. “Some believe, I know Albus does, that You-Know-Who did not die in Godric’s Hollow that night. And considering the lack of a body, I can’t help but agree that there is a strong possibility.”

“What does that have to do with the Theoi?” asked Poppy.

“It’s not the Theoi specifically but...well, Albus told me right after that night that he thinks he knows what happened. Lily Potter was a powerful witch, and sometimes when powerful mages die...well...”

“Their magic lashes out,” finished Daire. “And he thinks that Lily’s magic lashing out and protecting her son caused that dark mage’s death...or it should have.”

Minerva nodded. “Precisely. I don’t know much about the Theoi, but I do know they don’t exactly take it in good humor when people try to circumvent their influence. If You-Know-Who survived that night, that means he cheated death in a very literal way.”

Poppy’s eyes widened. “Godric’s Hollow is in England...and that’s shared territory...which means the Theoi get a portion of souls from there...”

“So,” Daire finished. “If the King of the Theoi Dead had marked off that mage’s soul to be collected for his subjects...he would indeed be angry if the mage managed to cheat death.”

“Maybe angry enough to send one of his children to make sure You-Know-Who was put down for good.” Minerva rubbed her eyes, feeling very tired suddenly. “That would also explain why Mr. Toukhthon is always around Mr. Potter. If You-Know-Who comes back...well, the popular story is that Mr. Potter defeated him the first time around, so people will look to him to fight You-Know-Who again.”

“But he’s only a boy!” Poppy protested.

“For now,” replied Daire. “And child heroes are not uncommon around here, as you both well know.”

“So you think...Zagreus is trying to train him?” asked Poppy. “Or sponsor him in some way?”

“Perhaps. Though this would be a lot more personal than most.”

Minerva snorted. “That’s one way to put it...practically attached at the hip, those two are...do you think Mr. Potter knows?”

Daire shrugged. “I’m not sure. I would say ‘probably’ though. The Theoi aren’t exactly known for being subtle.”

Daire checked his watch (wait, had he been wearing a watch before?). “Ah, but my time’s almost up, I’m afraid.” He smiled wryly at the two women. “Samhain allows us to push against the borders of places we wouldn’t normally be able to go. That’s the only reason I could tell you all this in person.”

The giant man stood and looked between the two women. “Be careful, both of you. The Theoi are both temperamental and protective of each other. Any perceived slight against one could cause the others to mobilize. Just stay back and gather information, and don’t engage. The rest of us will be working in the background to figure out what’s going on.” 

Daire looked at Minerva. “And I’m sure I don’t have to tell you, but just in case...you won’t be able to discuss this with anybody else.”

Minerva laughed humorlessly. “Who would believe me? But yes, I understand.” As she did, she felt a shiver of magic run up her body. A geas? Well, I shouldn’t be surprised...so he really is a fae...or something like that.

Daire looked at Poppy. “I’m glad you came back, for the record. I know Brigit missed you too.” He smiled. “See you around.”

Wait...Brigit?

Daire raised his staff, then smacked the end against the stone floor. There was a flash of light, and he was gone.

Well, that was that. That Daire fellow was not human, not at all. And from everything Minerva had witnessed (the staff, the book, the mention of Brigit, the comment about “mortals”) she was pretty sure she knew his identity now.

Daire, Cerra, Eochu, Ruad Rofhessa...all of those names were epithets for one being.

Minerva whirled on Poppy. “You’re the granddaughter of the Dagda ?”

Poppy smiled sheepishly. “Surprise?”

Minerva just groaned and poured another shot of firewhiskey. This was going to be a long night.

Chapter Text

“It was Snape!” Ron was telling Harry over tea at Hagrid’s hut. The Quidditch game had just concluded, one hundred and seventy points to sixty in a Gryffindor victory. “We all saw him cursing your broom, muttering!”

“Snape or Quirrell,” Zagreus reminded Ron. “They were both staring at him.”

Ron shook his head. “Okay but it was totally Snape’s idea. He probably pressured Quirrell into it...”

"Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing," Hagrid mumbled, staring up through his binoculars. "If I didn' know better, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom... but he can't have...."

Zagreus looked up to where Hagird was looking. Sure enough, Harry’s broom was jerking left and right, up and down, like a raging bull. 

The entire crowd gasped as Harry’s broom flipped over. Harry rose up off the broom, but caught it with one hand, leaving him dangling.

“Harry!” gasped Zagreus. The entire crowd was pointing at Harry now. Surely, Zagreus thought, surely they wouldn’t actually let him fall. There had to be some safeguards...right?

"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?" Seamus whispered.

“Can’t have,” said Hagrid, shaking his head. “It takes powerful magic to interfere with a broomstick like that.”

Hermoine snatched the binoculars from Hagrid and began scanning the stands. “What are you doing?” asked Ron.

Hermoine seemed to find what she was looking for, because she gasped and shoved the binoculars into Ron’s hands. “It’s Snape!” she said quickly. “He’s jinxing the broom!”

“What?” Zagreus snatched the binoculars from Ron to look for himself. (Ron’s eyes widened. Had he seen a glowing red eye under those bangs for a split second? No. It must be a trick of the light.)

Zagreus pointed the binoculars towards the teachers' stands. Sure enough, Snape was staring up at Harry and muttering under his breath. But in the seats below him... “Not just Snape! Quirrell is doing something too!”

Ron’s face was rapidly losing color. “What do we do?”

Zargeus and Hermoine made eye contact, and Zagreus could see Hermoine was thinking the same thing he was. We have to stop them. “You take Snape, I’ll take Quirrell?” 

Hermoine nodded. “Let’s go.”

The two sprinted through the stands. Why, oh why did the student stands have to be on the complete opposite side of the arena?

It felt like it took forever, but it was probably only about five minutes, for Zagreus and Hermoine to get under the teachers’ stands. Hermoine went up, Zagreus went down.

Good, Hermoine wouldn’t see what Zagreus was going to do.

Looking around quickly to make sure no one else was around, Zagreus slipped off one shoe and sock. He looked at the edge of Quirrell’s robe hanging under the stands, and stepped on it.

It might not have worked with Cerberus' tail when he was little, but apparently wizard robes weren’t nearly as fire resistant. 

The edge went up in flames and spread quickly. As Zagreus slipped his footwear back on, he heard two screams: one in front of him, and one above him. Seemed like Hermoine had done her part as well.

The two met up again right outside the teachers’ stands, looking up to see Harry clambering back on his broom and breathing simultaneous sighs of relief.

“Rubbish!” Hagrid protested. Apparently he hadn’t seen a thing despite sitting right next to Ron, Hermoine, Neville, and Zagreus in the stands. “Snape and Quirrell are teachers! Why would either of them do something like that?”

“I heard Quirrell snooping around where Fluffy is,” Zagreus admitted. “I think he’s trying to work with someone to get past him and get to whatever’s under the trapdoor.”

Hagrid dropped his teapot. “How do you know about Fluffy?”

“You know about it too?” asked Ron.

“Yeah, he’s mine. Bought him off a Greek chap in a pub. Lent him to Dumbledore to guard the...”

Harry leaned forward in anticipation. “Yes?”

Hagrid snapped his mouth shut and shook his head. “Nope. No way. Not gonna say another word. It’s top secret!”

“But Quirrell’s trying to steal it!” Zagreus protested.

“And maybe Snape too!” Ron put in. “If they really are working together.”

“They’re Hogwarts teachers, they’d do nothing of the sort!”

“So why did they just try to kill Harry?” asked Hermoine. “I’ve read all about jinxes. They need complete, unbroken eye contact. And I know Snape wasn’t blinking!”

“Now you all see here!” Hagrid actually seemed to be getting annoyed now. “Look, I don’t know why Harry’s broom was acting, but Hogwarts teachers don’t try to kill students! Now, you lot don’t go getting yourself mixed up in things that aren’t any of your business! You forget that dog, and forget what it’s guarding. That’s a matter that’s between Professor Dumbledore and Mr. Flamel!”

Harry grinned. “Mr. Flamel, you say?”

Hagrid groaned and put his head in his hands. “I shouldn’t have said that...I should not have said that...”

November turned to December (“Why is it called December when it's the twelfth month?” Zagreus wondered) and soon the grounds surrounded Hogwarts were covered in a blanket of snow.

Zagreus opened the dorm window on the first of December to catch a few flakes on his fingertips. He smiled, but it was a sad smile.

Snow was bittersweet for him. On one hand, it was the first weather he had seen on the surface, and its arrival meant his mother was back at the House.

On the other hand, it was a symbol of his grandmother’s displeasure. How was she doing right now, Zagreus wondered. He hoped she knew everyone was looking for her daughter, including Hades.

Hopefully she didn't take her wrath out on the whole world again...

“Oi!” Ron snapped. “Would you shut that window? It's bloody freezing in here!”

“Oops, sorry Ron!” Zagreus had been so absorbed in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed the snow blowing in. He shut the window as Harry and Neville giggled at Ron’s language.

Zagreus glanced outside one last time to see Quirrell walking around with two snowballs bouncing off the back of his turban. “I see the twins have gotten started on the holiday fun already.”

“I said shut the window!”

As the month continued on, the Great Hall was prepared for the holiday, which everyone was excited for. Especially since the holiday would mean a break from the Potions classes in the horribly freezing dungeons. Not to mention a break from Snape’s glaring. 

Finally, it was the last day before the holiday. One last Potions class...

“I do feel so sorry,” Malfoy was saying. “For all the people who have to stay over the holidays since they don’t have proper families to go back to.”

Subtly was apparently not Malfoy’s strong suit. He was literally staring right at Harry. Zagreus looked at Hermione and held up a couple of lionfish spines. “Bet you two gold I can get this into Malfoy’s cauldron.”

Hermione scowled at him. “Zagreus no! That’s dangerous!”

Zagreus groaned. “I know, I know. I just want to shut him up...”

“He’s just jealous,” grumbled Hermoine, using her knife to push chopped mint leaves into the cauldron. 

“What happened to ‘knowing the reason doesn’t make it better’?”

“Nothing,” sighed Hermoine. “But what else can I say?”

Thankfully, class was over soon after. Harry, Ron, Zagreus, Hermoine, and Neville climbed the stairs out of the dungeons, only for their way to be blocked by a large fir tree. Hermoine peeked between the branches. “Hello Hagrid!” she greeted.

“Need any help with that?” asked Ron.

“Nope, I got it,” said Hagrid, sounding winded. “Much obliged though.”

“Would you mind moving out of the way?” came Malfoy’s snooty voice from behind them. “Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose -- that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to."

Out of the corner of his eye, Zagreus saw Hermoine facepalm as Ron lunged at Malfoy. 

“Ron no!” Neville tried to pull Ron back, but Ron managed to grab the front of Malfoy’s robes.

“Weasley!”

Snape had come around a bend in the stairs just in time to see the fight.

“He was provoked, Professor Snape,” Hagrid explained. 

“Yeah, Malfoy was insulting his family. Again,” Zagreus put in. 

Snape glared at Zagreus. “Be that as it may,” he said through gritted teeth. “Fighting is still against the rules. Ten points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn’t more.”

Saying that, Snape swept by the group, pushing through the tree and leaving nettles all over the floor. Malfoy smirked at the Gryffindor group and soon followed, with Crabbe and Goyle following behind.

“Honestly,” sighed Hermoine. “ ‘You have no parents!’ ‘You’re poor!’ Over and over! Does he have no better insults?”

Ron shook his head. “I still hate it. I’ll get him, one of these days. One of these days, I swear...”

“Don’t worry, Ron. He’ll get what’s coming to him eventually,” Zagreus said, patting Ron’s shoulder. Everyone stared at him. “What? I’m just saying that one of these days he’s going to make the wrong person angry.”

“Anyways, cheer up, you lot!” said Hagrid. “Why don’t you come down with me to the Great Hall, it looks a treat!”

The group followed Hagrid to the Great Hall. Sure enough, it had been completely transformed. There was holly and mistletoe lining the walls, and there were several trees already scattered around, decorated with non-melting icicles, candles, gold and silver ornaments, and what looked like enchanted floating lights.

“So,” said Hagrid. “How many days do you have left until your holidays?”

“Just one,” said Hermoine. “That reminds me, guys, we have a half hour before lunch. We need to get to the library.”

“Oh, right!” Ron tore his eyes away from where Professor Flitwick had started conjuring gold ornaments and levitating them onto the tree.

"The library?" said Hagrid, following them out of the hall. "Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't you?"

"Oh, we're not working," Harry told him brightly. "Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel, we've been trying to find out who he is."

"You what?" Hagrid looked shocked. "Listen, I've told you! Drop. It. It's nothing' to you what that dog's guarding."

"We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that's all," said Hermione.

"Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?" Harry added. "We must've been through hundreds of books already and we can't find him anywhere. Just give us a hint? I know I've read his name somewhere."

"I'm saying nothing,” said Hagrid flatly.

"Just have to find out for ourselves, then," said Ron, and the group hurried off.

The group found nothing in the books, once again. The others had vetoed Zagreus’ idea of simply asking the librarian, Madam Pince, about Flamel. “What if she tells Snape or Quirell? Or what if they overhear?” Hermoine had pointed out. “We can’t risk it!”

So they were left to fruitlessly search through books until the curfew. Since Hermoine and Neville were leaving in the morning to go home for the holidays (Harry was stuck due to his relatives still being missing, and Ron’s parents were going on holiday to visit his brother in Romania) they left the search up to the three boys who were staying.

“Do you think your Gran would know who Nicholas Flamel is?” Harry asked Neville. “She might at least know where to find the information.”

Neville fidgeted nervously. “I don’t know...she might get suspicious. But...at least she wouldn’t tell Snape or Quirrell. I guess I can try, and I’ll write if I hear anything.”

Ron nodded. “Sounds good. You should ask your parents as well, Hermoine. It should be pretty safe, right?”

Hermoine snorted. “Very safe, considering they’re both dentists.”

Zagreus laid in bed until he heard soft snoring fill the room. Once it did, he sat up and quietly slipped out of bed, changing his pajamas back into day clothes. He reached under the bed and pulled out a small sack that he’d snuck away from dinner. The sausage had been particularly good tonight, so Fluffy was sure to like it.

Tonight was the night. Zagreus was going to see what was under the trapdoor.

Quietly, Zagreus tiptoed out into the common room, then pushed the portrait open. He left it open just a crack behind him, just to make sure he could get back in without his dash (all the portraits were alive, after all, and he didn’t want them saying anything).

He made his way up to the third floor corridor easily. He’d memorized the route from visiting Fluffy so many times, and he could get up there in less than ten minutes.

When Zagreus got to the locked door, he dashed through to see Fluffy waiting for him. “Hey, boy! I brought something special for you tonight!”

Fluffy’s second and third heads perked up. Zagreus held out the bag for the second head to sniff. “Yeah, you want this, right?” Zagreus tossed it into a far corner of the room. “Go on! Fetch!”

Fluffy hesitated for a second, then ran over to the bag and began tearing into it. “Good boy,” said Zagreus, “I’ll be right back.”

He lifted up the trapdoor slowly, trying to make sure it didn’t creak. He looked down and saw what looked like vines on the ground below (being a child of the Underworld, Zagreus could see better in the dark then most humans).

“Alright, let’s do this.”

It was a much easier height to manage than the courtyard window. What wasn’t easy to manage were the vines that wrapped around Zagreus’ legs as soon as he landed.

“Blood and darkness!” He’d gotten cocky. Luckily, the vines were only constricting his legs and didn’t seem interested in reaching for his arms.

“Okay, think...how do you defeat a plant...” Zagreus frowned. “Fire? That’s really only if the plant is dead though...but I don’t have a better option.”

Zagreus wiggled his leg, trying to get his shoe off. “Ow, ow, ow!” The vines just gripped him harder. Zagreus grimaced, summoning Stygius. “Okay, no more Mister Nice God.”

Zagreus chopped at the vines holding his leg until they loosened enough for him to slip his foot out of his shoe and sock.

That did it. As soon as Zagreus’ flaming feet were exposed, the vines immediately retreated, clearing a path to a door in front of him. “Thank you very much,” said Zagreus. He picked up his footwear and walked to the door.

He opened the door to find a well lit room on the other side, with a ceiling stretching much higher than should’ve been physically possible. But this was a magic room after all. Up near the ceiling, there seemed to be small birds flying around.

Sword in one hand, footwear in the other, Zagreus inched his way across the room, ready in case the birds attacked in a swarm. 

But that didn’t happen. Zagreus reached the door on the other side with no issues.

“O...kay...?” Zagreus tried to open the door. It was locked. “Ah, there’s the catch.” He pulled out his wand. “Let’s see...what was that spell Hermoine used? Alohomora!”

Zagreus waved his wand, then tried the door again. Nope. Still locked.

Zagreus shrugged. “Welp, I tried.”

He dashed through the door. Good thing they weren’t sealed with godly power like the ones in the Underworld. Also, instead of a ten foot thick stone slab, these doors were an inch of wood, if that.

The next room was dimly lit, and consisted of a large checkered stage. Standing on the side nearest to Zagreus were two rows of black stone statue, while on the other side, where the next door was, there were two rows of identical white statues.

A giant chessboard. Zagreus groaned. “Nope. Nope. Not doing this.” 

Ron had tried to explain chess to Zagreus, but Zagreus simply didn’t have the patience for all the different moves and strategies. It was like listening to the Infernal Filing System lectures all over again. 

Zagreus dashed across the board quickly until he got behind the white statues and to the door. One statue rotated its head 180 degrees to stare at Zagreus (or it seemed like it was staring, it didn’t really have a face).

Zagreus just gave a cheeky grin and wave before opening the door and going into the next room.

The next room smelled awful, worse than Cerberus before he was given a bath. And Zagreus soon found the source.

It was another troll. Luckily, this one seemed to be asleep, curled up on a ragged sleeping bag and snoring loudly. Zagreus plugged his nose and dashed across the room as quickly as he could. 

In the next room, there was just a table with seven bottles on it. As soon as Zagreus stepped in, two fires sprang up, one at the entrance and one at the exit.

Zagreus sighed. “Okay, what’s up with this room?” He looked at the table and saw a sheet of paper next to the bottles.

The paper read: 

Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind

Two of us will help you, which ever you would find,

One among us seven will let you move ahead,

Another will transport the drinker back instead,

Two among our number hold only nettle wine,

Three of us are killers, waiting bidden in line...

Zagreus put the paper down. “Nope. No riddles. No.”

He dashed through the fire blocking the exit.

He was now in a large, round room, like one would find in a stone tower. There were steps leading down to a lower level. It looked like something should be standing in the middle of the room.

But there was nothing. 

“Hello?” Zagreus called out. “Is anyone here? Mr. Flamel?”

There was no response.

For the next hour, Zagreus searched high and low, but there was nothing in the room. No other door, no traps...and certainly nothing valuable.

“This can’t be it...they’re protecting something ...unless...” A thought struck Zagreus. “Unless it isn’t ready yet. All the traps are incredibly elaborate...maybe there’s one or two more to set up before they put the treasure down here.”

Zagreus groaned. “Perfect, just perfect. I got here too early.” He sighed. “I suppose I at least figured out how to get to this point...all the same, it’s quite anticlimactic.”

But there was nothing else Zagreus could do. So he went back, past the bottles, the troll, the chess board, the birds, and back through the vines. He jumped up, grabbed the edge of the trapdoor, and pulled himself out, closing it behind him. Fluffy had finished snacking on the sausages and was now sleeping.

Out the door, down the corridor, and back through the painting Zagreus went (it was still open). He couldn’t help but feel disappointed as he climbed into bed. Maybe the treasure just wasn’t for me to discover , he thought as the first rays of sun peeked through the window.

Chapter Text

“It’s Yule!” yelled Ron, springing from his bed and running over to Harry’s. “Wake up Harry! Wake up Zagreus!”

Zagreus made a show of yawning and stretching as Ron pulled Harry’s blankets and sheets off. Harry futilely tried to bat his friends’ hands away. “Five mor’ minutes...”

“No way! It’s present time! Come on!”

Ron ran back to his bed as Harry fumbled for his glasses. Sure enough, there were small piles of presents at the ends of each of their beds.

As Harry laid eyes on the pile, his eyes widened. “I’ve got presents...” he whispered.

“Well, yeah!” laughed Ron. “It is Christmas after all!”

Zagreus ruffled Harry’s hair as he got out of bed as well. “Let’s see what all we got, shall we?”

A whole day dedicated to gift-giving was foreign to Zagreus, especially since the Underworld really had no calendar. However, he’d certainly heard of the concept from shades (but seriously, “Saturnalia”? Couldn’t it have been any other name?). That said, Zagreus didn’t know much about what mortals got for one another, and he was quite sure he couldn’t just go around giving nectar to everyone.

Luckily, Ron had proved an excellent guide in this regard, being perfectly understanding of Zagreus’ unfamiliarity with Yule traditions. “It doesn’t really matter what you get someone, it just has to be done with thought. Something they like, or they need. Or even something you made yourself. My mum does sweaters every year.”

Speaking of which, the first package that Zagreus opened was addressed from a “Molly Weasley”. Inside the package was a black garment made with thick, fuzzy thread, which Zagreus realized must be a sweater after unfolding it.

Zagreus heard Ron groan. “She made you two Weasley sweaters?”

“Weasley sweaters?” asked Zagreus as Harry unwrapped what looked like a hand carved flute and blew into it. 

“It’s a family tradition,” explained Ron, unwrapping his own sweater, which was a deep maroon. “Every year she makes us sweaters. We all have our colors. Mine’s maroon.” He sighed. “Looks horrible with my hair.”

“That’s really nice of her,” said Hary quietly as he unwrapped his own sweater, which was an emerald green color.

The sweater packages also contained fudge, which Zagreus was relieved to see did not have any strange charms like most wizard candy. He made a mental note to see if he could snag a recipe for fudge to give to the Head Chef when he got home.

Zagreus opened up a round package next, and cackled when he saw what was inside.

“Uh...is that a whip, mate?”

Zagreus grinned and picked up the note that came with the package. “Zag,” he read. “Heard there was supposed to be some kind of holiday with gifts up there. Figured I’d send you this in case anyone gives you trouble. From, Meg.”

Ron warily eyed the whip. “You already have a sword, what do you need a whip for?”

Zagreus shrugged. “Dunno. I’ll keep it anyways.”

“Who’s Meg, anyways?”

“My girlfriend.”

“You’re joking!”

Zagreus shook his head as Harry opened his last package. As he did, something silvery slipped out and fell on the floor. 

Ron gasped. “Is that what I think it is?”

“What is it?” asked Zagreus.

Harry picked up the fabric and wrapped it around himself. As he did, his body vanished into thin air. 

Ron dropped his chocolate. “I knew it! It’s an invisibility cloak! Those are super rare!”

Zagreus let out a low whistle. A cloak that was the same as his father’s Helm? No wonder it was rare. “Who sent it?”

Harry reached down and picked a note up off the floor. “Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well. A Very Merry Christmas to you.”

“A family heirloom, huh?” Zagreus nodded. “That makes sense. There’s no name?”

Harry shook his head. “Nothing.”

Zagreus hummed thoughtfully as Ron felt the edge of the cloak with an awestruck expression on his face. “It’s just like in the Three Brothers...”

“The what?” asked Harry. 

“Oh yeah, you wouldn’t have heard of it. Wizarding fairy tale.” Ron grinned. “Legend goes that three brothers outwitted Death himself, so they each got a reward for it. The third and youngest brother got Death’s invisibility cloak.”

Zagreus gave a startled laugh. “Outwitted Death? In my experience, that tends to be a bad idea.” Ron gave him a strange look. “Well, the stories all go that you can’t outwit death, and people who try usually get punished for it.”

Ron shrugged. “Oh yeah, they didn’t escape dying permanently. Actually the end of the story says the third brother departed with Death like an old friend when his time came. After he’d lived a long, full life and handed his cloak off to his kid of course.”

Zagreus nodded. “That’s fine, then. Long as he didn’t do something stupid like...chain Death up in a box or something.”

Ron frowned. “You can do that?”

“One guy did. Then he had to push a boulder up a hill for thousands of years as punishment. He seems cheerful about it though.”

“Wait, you’ve met him?”

Zagreus decided to busy himself with eating Molly Weasley’s fudge. Ron frowned, but decided to check over his gifts again instead of asking further. “Hey, here’s one for all of us from Neville! Not sure why it was put in my pile, it has your names on it too.”

Harry and Zagreus scooted over to look. Inside the package were three bags of Fizzing Whizbees and some Acid Pops. That wasn’t the good part though. The best part was the note that came with Neville's gifts.

Hello everyone!

Good news! I finally found out who Nicholas Flamel is. It took a long time to find a good way to ask, but cousin Callidora was talking about the historical sites she’d toured over the summer, and I asked her. She rolled her eyes and told me that he made the Philosopher's Stone and wondered how I’d never heard of him before, telling me to pay more attention in History (she went to Beauxbatons, she has no idea how boring Binns is).

Anyways, I'd never heard of Philosopher’s Stone before. I asked Gran what it was, but she said it was just a fairytale.

The three boys snorted at the irony of a witch saying that.

So I had to look in our library at home, which was a lot easier now that I knew what I was looking for.

Get this: the Philosopher's Stone is an object that can turn any metal to gold and turn plain water into the Elixir of Life. The elixir will keep you healthy and alive as long as you keep drinking it. No wonder Snape and Quirrell are after it! They might not even be working together, because it's just the kind of thing anybody would want!

It all makes sense to me, anyways. I’m not sure why it would be at Hogwarts of all places, but there you go.

Hope you all are having a Merry Christmas,

Neville.

Ron threw up his hands and whooped in joy. “Go Neville! Never thought I’d say that...”

“He’s right, too,” said Harry. “A stone that gives you endless gold and lets you live forever? Anyone would want that!” He glanced at Zagreus. “Well...most anyone.”

Zagreus nodded in agreement. It wouldn’t even necessarily make his father angry, either, just annoyed since it was life extension, not completely avoiding death. Granted, it was a powerful life extension, so it would be very annoying, but his father and Thanatos could both be patient. It wasn’t the same thing as imprisoning Death or...whatever Voldyface had done.

Zagreus suddenly had a horrible thought. Voldy was the exact kind of person who would want to get a stone like that. Was he going to break into the school soon?

Was he already there?

All too soon, the winter break ended and classes resumed. Hermoine was ecstatic upon her return that Neville had figured it out. “No wonder we couldn’t find him! We were looking in 20th century history books!”

“Yeah,” Ron agreed. “Can’t exactly be recent history if he’s hundreds of years old, can he?”

With that weight off the group’s minds, they turned back to focusing on school activities. 

Time passed quickly, and eventually it was time for Harry's second quidditch match. There was just one problem...

"Snape is the referee?" gasped Neville.

“He can do that?” asked Zagreus.

“Apparently,” Harry said morosely. “Something about Madam Hooch coming down with a fever and they need a last minute replacement.”

“But Snape ? Why Snape of all people?”

“Well it can’t be Professor McGonagall or Professor Sprout, because they might be biased towards their own houses,” Hermoine explained. “If they need a Head of House to fill in, that just leaves Professors Flitwick and Snape. Just don’t play, Harry. It’s not worth it.”

Neville nodded rapidly. “Yeah! Say you’re ill!”

“Pretend to break your leg,” Ron suggested.

“Really break your leg!”

“Do not ,” Zagreus argued. “That would hurt.”

“Besides, there isn’t a reserve Seeker,” Harry pointed out. “If I back out, Gryffindor will have to forfeit.”

Zagreus leaned over and whispered in Hermoine’s ear. “You watch Snape, I’ll watch Quirrel?”

Hermoine nodded. “Start practicing the Leg Locker Jinx.”

The four friends sat, grim and determined, in the stands on the day of the match.

“Now don’t forget,” whispered Hermoine. “It’s Locomotor Mortis .”

Zagreus was trying to practice the wand movement as inconspicuously as possible when Neville tapped him. “Look!” he said. “It’s Dumbledore!”

Zagreus looked over to the stand reserved for teachers and staff, and sure enough, there was the Headmaster, with lemon yellow robes and his long silver beard.

Neville breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “Thank Merlin. No one’ll try anything with Dumbledore watching.”

Zagreus nodded. “Do you think that’s why he came this time? Because he heard what happened to Harry and wanted to prevent it again?”

Ron grinned. “Yeah, you’re right!” He looked down at the field, where the players and Snape were marching out. “Snape knows it too. I’ve never seen him look so mad except-ow!”

Ron was interrupted by someone elbowing him in the back of the head. “Oops,” said a familiar and snooty voice. “Sorry Weasley. Didn’t see you there.”

Zagreus suppressed a groan as he turned around to see Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle behind him. “You must be lost. The Slytherin seats are on the other side.”

Malfoy ignored him. "Wonder how long Potter's going to stay on his broom this time? Anyone want to bet? What about you, Weasley?"

Ron, in a surprising show of restraint, ignored Malfoy to focus on Snape, who had just awarded Gryffindor a penalty for George Weasley apparently aiming a bludger at him. 

When he got no response, Malfoy raised his voice. "You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team? It's people they feel sorry for. See,there's Potter, who's got no parents, then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money -- you should be on the team, Longbottom, you've got no brains."

Neville’s face went red, but Zagreus placed a hand on his shoulder. “He hasn’t seen your Herbology work,” he muttered to Neville. “Don’t listen to him.”

“Herbology?” Malfoy laughed, and soon Crabbe and Goyle copied him. “Oh please, a flobberworm could pass that class. If brains were gold, Longbottom, you’d be poorer than Weasley, and that’s saying something!”

That got Ron’s attention, and he whirled on Malfoy. “One more word...just one more word...”

“Guys, look! Harry!” Hermoine cried.

Zagreus quickly turned back around to see that Harry had gone into a steep dive. “Ah, Weasley, you’re in luck!” laughed Malfoy. “It appeared that Potter’s spotted some money on the ground!”

That did it. Ron leapt onto Malfoy, fists balled, and Neville followed soon after. Goyle rushed to defend his leader, and Crabbe attempted to do the same. Unfortunately, before he could take a step, he suddenly found himself in a headlock courtesy of Zagreus. 

Zagreus, Crabbe’s head under his arm, was watching as Harry became a scarlet smear in the air with how fast he was going. And he was barreling right towards...

Zagreus laughed loudly as Snape’s oily hair was blown away from his face by the wind caused by Harry’s speed. 

Then Harry was quickly slowing down, holding on his one hand as the other was raised above his head, clutching something gold.

Hermoine cheered. “We won! Harry’s won! Ron, Neville, where are you?” She practically glomped onto poor Parvati Patil in front of her, who shrieked in surprise.

Zagreus grinned and turned around to see the fight had finished. Neville had a black eye, and Ron was clutching a bloody nose, but neither Malfoy nor Goyle had gotten out unscathed either.

“Tell you what, Malfoy. How about I bring you to meet my mother and grandmother, and you can tell them what you think of Herbology to their faces? Personally, I think you’d make a rather nice wisteria. What do you think?”